


For Want of Worth

by vipertooths



Series: BBCM: Merlin/Arthur [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Good morgana, Happy Ending, Humor, Jealousy, Magic Revealed, Mild Angst, Multi, Mutual Pining, POV Arthur, Possessive Behavior, Self-Denial, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: A run-in with a powerful sorceress leads to the revealing of Merlin's magic, a promise on Arthur's part, and a very different story for our favorite heroes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't watched Merlin in a _long_ time and this is also a canon divergence, so certain events have changed and others have not come to pass at all. The key changes to this story include:  
>  \- Lancelot's banishment was lifted by Uther after he killed the griffin. He still chose to leave, but only for a few months, and then returned with Percival.  
> \- The prophecy is only that Merlin will help Arthur unite Albion. There's nothing about Mordred and Morgana being Arthur's bane and downfall.  
> \- Morgause learned from the druids (how? not important tbh) of this prophecy and so her approach to the situation changed drastically from the show.  
> \- Merlin set Kilgharrah free sooner in this verse than in canon.

Merlin told them that something was wrong as dusk had begun to fall, that they should turn back to Camelot. Despite Lancelot's furtive glances around the wood, seeking whatever enemy he believed Merlin to sense, Arthur had ignored the supplication, had written it off as cowardice. Merlin was many things, but he had never been a coward. Arthur knew that, deep down, and still he pressed on.

By the time he had been willing to admit that Merlin had been right, it was too late. The forest was misted over in an unnatural fog and the three of them were nearly asleep astride their horses. Arthur tried to lead them out the way they came, but their minds were too clouded, limbs too heavy. The last thing he could recall was the odd sensation of falling.

+

They awoke in shackles, chained to a cold, stone floor. The lantern lit the room enough to see all of its corners for how small it was. Lancelot was already awake, but Merlin was still slouched and asleep against the wall. There was a trickle of blood running down the side of his manservant's head and, even through the haziness that was still settled on his mind, he knew enough to worry over it.

His tongue felt foreign as he tried to call Merlin's name, to wake the man, if only to be sure that he was still alive and well. Lancelot shook his head. "I tried that already. He's out cold. I think whatever they did affected him most."

After a minute of struggling with the shackles, Arthur finally resigned himself to waiting for whoever had captured them.

+

When Merlin finally awoke, Arthur was certain that a half of a day had already passed.

"How is your head?" Lancelot asked, beating Arthur to it.

Merlin only blinked slowly, as if the question didn't even register. He looked almost ready to fall back to sleep.

"Merlin, stay with us." Lancelot tried to move closer, but the shackles kept the three of them pinned to the floor. "Hey, look at me."

Merlin lifted his head and for a moment, Arthur could almost swear there was a golden glow to them. It was gone in an instant, leaving him to wonder if he'd imagined it or if it was some side effect of whatever magic had been cast on them.

"Lance?" Merlin mumbled. "Something's wrong."

Arthur snorted. "You don't say, Merlin. I thought our being held captive in a tiny room and possibly still under the influence of magic to be perfectly all right."

"Lance, something is _wrong_ ," he stressed, blinking hard and giving his head a small shake, ignoring Arthur completely.

Lancelot glanced to Arthur, looking worried, and then back to Merlin. "What do you mean?"

"It feels wrong."

 _Very helpful_ , Arthur thought, rolling his eyes, but he supposed he couldn't hold Merlin's blathering against him. The man was clearly not in his right mind. Arthur refused to consider that that might be due to the blow he seemed to have taken to the head.

"Magic," Merlin mumbled, and Lancelot shot Arthur another glance.

"There was magic cast on us in the forest. It still hasn't worn off for you yet. Give it some time."

Merlin passed back out promptly and they shared a look of concern. Of course it would be Merlin that's affected the most.

At some point, Arthur must have nodded back off as well, because he eventually woke to a dry throat and an uncomfortably full bladder. A shifting sound caught his attention and he looked up, eyes landing on the figure who was probably responsible for waking him.

"Who are you? What do you want?" His voice was scratchy, but it had not yet lost its strength.

The figure pulled back their hood, revealing blonde curls and a severe expression. A woman. "I am Morgause, and I want many things, princeling. But they can wait." She lifted her hand and the chains holding him grew longer.

The first thing he did with the small freedom was move to Merlin's side, checking the man's head to make sure his idiot brain wasn't threatening to fall out of his thick skull. He checked Merlin's pulse next, relieved to find it steady and strong.

Morgause made a considering sound as he pulled away from his manservant. “It is a wonder that you are Uther’s son at all. Although, I wonder if you would be so concerned for him if you knew him truly.”

Arthur tried not to let her words phase him—she was a sorceress after all, and not to be heeded—but his curiosity got the better of him. “And how do _you_ know him?”

“If the druids are to be believed, he is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth,” she said, then paused, waiting for his reaction, but he would not let her lies hold any weight over him. She didn’t look surprised as she continued. “You don’t believe me. Soon, Arthur Pendragon, you will.”

She swept out of the room without another word and it took him a moment to realize she had left his chains lengthened. Like this, he could at least reach the chamberpot in their cramped alcove, and he thanked the gods for small miracles.

He considering waking his friends, but there would be no point to it, as they were still trapped. _Let them sleep_ , Arthur thought. It was more difficult not to disturb Merlin, not to question him on what Morgause had said, which was ludicrous; Merlin being a powerful sorcerer was laughable. He let Merlin be, sitting back against the wall to wait on the whims and fancies of his enemy.

+

When she returned, she came with water, but no food. Arthur considered refusing it, wondering if it was poisoned, but it seemed a needless way to kill him when he was already at her mercy. She used magic to move the water close enough for him to grab. It was smart, not coming within his reach, even if he was stripped of his weapons.

She sat at the small table across from them, playing some sort of waiting game that Arthur couldn’t fathom the point of. When Lancelot woke, she apologized for the uncomfortable situation he was enduring and lengthened his chains as well. When she caught him glancing at the chamberpot, she seemed amused by his hesitation to use it in her presence. She smirked, giving her word that she would look the other way, and his need to relieve himself eventually outweighed his reluctance. Arthur handed him the canteen afterward, finding no ill effect from drinking it, which he accepted gratefully.

When Merlin finally came to, Morgause was immediately more alert, straightening slightly and looking at him intently.

Merlin lifted his head, blinking rapidly but seeming much more lucid than before. “Who are you?” was the first question he asked, which loosened a bit of tension in Arthur’s shoulders. Whatever this Morgause claimed to know of him, _he_ clearly didn’t know _her_.

“Morgause. It is a pleasure to meet you, Emrys.”

Merlin stiffened, just slightly, something Arthur wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching the man so closely. “You must have the wrong person. My name is Merlin.”

She seemed mildly amused by his answer and inclined her head. “If that is what you would prefer to be called. But you know things cannot go on like this, Merlin. The two of you are meant to bring about change, and yet I see none of it.”

Merlin frowned, staying silent, and Lancelot shifted uneasily where he sat.

“I could kill Uther now, could walk out of this room and return with his blood on my hands.” The mention of his father put Arthur further on edge and he grit his teeth. “He is virtually defenseless now, with you here and unable to protect him. Though why you would ever wish to is far beyond my imagination.”

“If it would be so easy to kill him, then why haven’t you?” Merlin asked, voicing Arthur’s thoughts. “What are you playing at?”

“The druids seem to be sure of the future you will set about. I would do what I can to bring that future upon us sooner rather than later.”

“Can’t any of you speak plainly?” Merlin snapped, but there was a look about his face that Arthur could tell was concealed fright.

"If you don't trust him enough to tell him the truth," Morgause answered, voice sharp as steel, "how can anyone trust he will bring magic back to Camelot? You _will_ tell him, Emerys."

What was she on about? Bringing magic back to the lands? Were all those who practiced sorcery simply driven to madness?

Merlin glared at her, hands clenched into fists. "What did you do to me?"

Arthur frowned, unable to follow.

"Your magic is bound here." Morgause stood and, with a wave of her hand, shortened Arthur's chains until his hands could barely reach his lap. She walked to the entrance and paused without looking back. "You will tell him or you will watch him die in chains."

When she was gone, Arthur tried to parcel out everything said in the conversation. He felt like a fool for considering it, but Merlin had never denied having magic. "Merlin."

The longer the silence lasted, the more damning it was, and the more hollow Arthur's chest felt. _He couldn't possibly..._

"Merlin," Lancelot echoed softly, face far kinder and less confused than Arthur was sure his was.

Merlin just shook his head, and Arthur wanted to take that for a denial. He wasn't a sorcerer. He was just a useless manservant and Arthur's trusted friend, despite their difference in rank.

"It's better than the alternative," Lancelot pressed, and already Arthur could feel the world shifting underneath him. There was little chance they weren't talking about what he thought they were.

He watched numbly as Merlin finally turned to face him, eyes full of unshed tears, and he had the ridiculous thought that that was wrong. He was seconds away from being told of the worst betrayal of his life, but he still found himself concerned at Merlin's distress. Lancelot placed a hand on Merlin's arm and he felt a deep resentment, partly because he was bound to the floor, but mostly because he wasn't sure what his hands would do if they could reach Merlin.

"I have magic," Merlin said, choking on the words. "I was born with it. I use it for you, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head and turned away, couldn't stand to look at that face full of pain that had no right to be there. He was the one who had been lied to. All that time, he had been at the mercy of a sorcerer, and he hadn't even known it. His jaw clenched and his hands curled until his nails were biting into his skin. He had a million questions, but he couldn't bring himself to ask them. He could hardly trust Merlin—Emerys?—to tell him the truth.

To add to the indignity, Lancelot had known. Arthur had been so stupid, so trusting. His father had been right about him all along, right about magic.

As soon at the thought came, he pushed it aside. Even in light of Merlin's sorcery, of the betrayal by two people he considered friends, the thought felt wrong. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he didn't hold the same beliefs as his father. It had been Lancelot that had killed the griffin. It had been Merlin who accompanied him on every trip, who tended to him every day and night and had never done more than gripe about it. If Merlin was as powerful as Morgause seemed to think he was, Arthur couldn't understand why he'd waste his time as a servant. The idea of Merlin doing it to gain his trust and manipulate him seemed so at odds with everything he knew of the man. But what did he really know, after all?

The room was quiet in a way that felt suffocating. He wanted to leave now more than ever, to fight until he was too tired to think of anything. He wanted to go back to before he'd walked into the damned forest.

He cut a surreptitious glance to his left, where Merlin had his knees pulled up and his face buried in them, Lancelot's arm wrapped around his shoulder. Anger flared inside him again and he went back to staring ahead. He stayed that way for some time—brooding, as Merlin would have called it—before the silence began to weigh on him more than his thoughts.

"Why did you come to Camelot?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Merlin's head shoot up, surprised to be spoken to. Arthur tamped down his emotions; he needed a clear head.

"My mother sent me to live with Gaius."

"Why him? You must have known magic was outlawed here."

Merlin shifted, and Arthur finally found the strength to look at him. He stared down at his hands as if they were harboring all the answers. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Why did you become my manservant?"

He actually managed a smile at that, but it was small and sad. "It's not like I asked for it, Arthur."

No, Arthur supposed, he hadn't, but he could have planned for it to be given to him. Considering the situation, it seemed far-fetched and full of too many variables. "Have you ever used your magic to—" Arthur couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Merlin was already cutting in, staring at him with wide and pleading eyes.

"I've never enchanted you or used it against you. I swear, Arthur."

He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but the words eased the pain and anger in his heart.

"Is Emerys your real name?"

"It's what the druids call me."

They spent a long time like that, Arthur asking questions and Merlin doing his best to answer them. Just as Arthur had the troubling thought that he may never find an end to the questions he has, Morgause returned to the room, ending the interrogation.

"A wise choice," she said, taking her customary seat. "How are you feeling, princeling? Are your hands itching for a sword? Wood for a pyre?"

He physically recoiled at the idea of killing Merlin. The fact that he hadn't even thought of doing such a thing would have had his father in a fury.

Morgause watched him with interest. "Good. The Triple Goddess must have seen it fit for you to take after your mother rather than your father."

"What do you know of my mother?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. But I could gain you a few moments time with her...if you prove yourself worthy of being released."

"My mother is dead."

"So she is. You have my condolences. I'm sure she would have made a much better parent than Uther has. But dead does not mean gone."

He smothered the hope that dared to bubble in his chest. Whatever he thought of Merlin, he wasn't going to suddenly begin trusting every sorceress he came across. "I am growing tired of this. What do you want from me?"

"Merlin works towards a great future, but you hinder it by mirroring your father's animosity towards magic, regardless of your personal beliefs. Cast aside your biases, the distrust that has been impressed upon you since your birth, and realize that magic is no different than a sword. Only the way it is wielded, and where it is aimed, truly matter. What I want from you is a promise."

"A promise of what, exactly?"

"Promise me that if I let you leave here, you will use your power for the good of all, not just those without magic."

Arthur considered her words. He could easily make any promise to free himself and go back on it once he returned to Camelot, but a man's word was his honor, and he could admit that her request was fair. The druids had magic, after all, and he knew they were not evil, that they deserved his protection where he could give it. He looked at Merlin and Lancelot, who stared back with the same trusting eyes that they always had. The same trust that often weighed on his shoulders.

He turned his gaze back to Morgause and lifted his chin. "I, Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, do hereby promise to do whatever I can to protect all innocents on my land."

She waited, unmoved by his proclamation.

"Sorcerer or no," he added, years of prejudice making his tongue heavy.

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

He gave a single nod. "I would expect no less than to be held accountable for my words."

She gave him an appraising look. "I have precautions to take, as you might understand." It was the last thing spoken before the world gave way to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a simple ficlet and then just ran away from me. I've currently written 7k and don't really see an end coming soon, so I decided to turn it into a chaptered fic.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of it! Surprisingly, this is the first merthur fic I've written. I hope I can do them justice. ♥
> 
> Also, I just recently made a new blog on Tumblr on I'd love for some people to talk to there. You can find me [@pratboyfriends](http://pratboyfriends.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur woke with a gasp in the middle of a clearing. He struggled to dislodge the last vestiges of his nightmare as his eyes adjusted to the bright morning light. They watered with the effort, but he barely paid it any mind as he caught sight of his friends nearby. Once he could see that their chests rose and fell with breath, he allowed himself to calm and take stock of the situation.

His sword was only a foot from him and he grabbed it at he got to his feet, returning it to its place at his side. Their horses were, surprisingly, returned to them, tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing. He walked to them and grabbed his crossbow from the belongings they carried, planning on hunting for something small to eat. His stomach was aching with hunger and he was sure his friends would be no better off.

He had only gotten a short distance away when he heard his name shouted and he immediately turned face and bolted back to find Merlin awake and panicked. As soon as he reentered the clearing—and he certainly hadn't been so graceless as to have _crashed_ into the clearing, whatever Merlin might say later on—Merlin's face cleared and he fell back to the ground in relief.

"I thought something might have happened to you," he said.

Arthur was suddenly reminded of just what Merlin was, though he wasn't all that surprised to find he didn't really care about Merlin's magic. The lying hurt more than anything, but even _that_ he could concede understanding to some extent. "I was just getting food."

Merlin nodded up at him before looking away. Arthur knew that look. It was the _I have something to say but I'm biting my tongue_ look, which wasn't one he wore often, considering he rarely kept his thoughts and comments to himself.

"What is it?"

Merlin's eyes darted back to him and he hesitated almost long enough to make Arthur snap at him. When he finally spoke, it was to ask if Arthur would like any help. Arthur almost laughed, because how would he be of _any_ help, until the realization hit that he was offering to use magic. The first response, the one on the tip of Arthur's tongue, was no.

He took a deep breath and looked down at the man still lying at his feet and tried to shake Uther's voice from his head. He had to admit that he was curious as well to actually see Merlin use magic. He nodded and reached a hand down and Merlin took it gratefully, eyes shining in that stupid, happy way that always made something soft stir in his chest. He beat the feeling back with a stick and rolled his eyes at his friend. "You look like you're going to cry. Don't be such a girl."

Merlin grinned at him, falling into place at his side as they began walking. "I'll have you know, the girls I know are stronger and braver than most of Camelot's knights."

He raised his eyebrows, amused despite himself. "Stronger and braver than you, in any case," he granted, his mouth twitching at Merlin's offended huff.

Before he could make any further remarks, Merlin said something under his breath, something that was definitely a spell, but Arthur only turned in time to see the gold fading from his eyes. "We'll attract more animals," he said by way of explanation.

And the spell certainly worked—they soon had enough meat to fill the three of them—but they found, with time, it began to work a little _too_ well. When a squirrel hopped onto Arthur's shoulder and tried to nuzzle his neck like he was some princess from a fable, he finally had enough and told Merlin to dispel the cursed magic.

Merlin did as he was told for once, though he grinned at Arthur in a way that was sure to mean the moment was not soon going to be forgotten.

"I didn't expect the effects to get stronger the longer it lasted."

"Save it, Merlin."

When they returned, Lancelot was gone from his spot on the forest floor and they found him instead with the horses, giving them water. "Figured you'd come back sooner or later," he commented when he saw them.

Arthur gave Merlin a pointed look. "At least some people have the wits about them not to go panicking the second I step out of sight."

With reddening cheeks, Merlin gave him a dirty glare. "I don't know what came over me, worrying about a clotpole like you. Must've been an effect of Morgause's spell that hadn't worn off." Dumping the hares on the forest floor, because a deer would have been too much trouble to bring back, he went about collecting some wood for a fire. In the meanwhile, Lancelot took up the job of skinning and cleaning the hares, which earned him a grateful smile from Merlin when he returned with an armful of sticks.

He set them up much as he always had, and then, for reasons unknown, proceeded to try to light them as he always had as well. Arthur could only watch him fumble with the damp wood or so long before it became too frustrating to bear. "What in the _world_ are you doing?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder as if _Arthur_ were the simpleton. "I'm starting a fire, unless you'd like to eat these raw."

"Merlin, you idiot, you have _magic_."

He stiffened automatically, then relaxed again. "Old habits die hard, I suppose." He set down the sticks he was attempting to light and removed his hands. " _Forbærnan_."

Flames immediately sprung to life and while it was strange to see Merlin doing magic, it mostly just made Arthur curious about what _else_ he could do. Morgause had said that he was the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, after all, though _that_ bit was still hard for Arthur take seriously.

“Can’t you just cook them without fire?”

“I might burn them to a crisp and I think we’re all too hungry to chance wasting the food.”

He sat down beside Merlin as the man began to roast the first hare, taking the momentary silence to sort out his own thoughts. "Did you ever consider telling me?" he asked, turning his eyes from the flames.

"Every day," Merlin replied. He looked sad and Arthur finally took the time to consider that he wasn't the only one hurt by the lies.

"It must have been lonely."

"Sometimes. But I have Gaius, Lance, even—" he stopped short and Arthur eyed him, focusing on the omission and ignoring the part about Gaius knowing because it was honestly not surprising at all.

"Even?"

Merlin seemed to shrink down. There was a long stretch where he didn't reply, but Arthur didn't push this time. Whatever it was, it seemed to be causing him no small amount of distress. When he finally answered, his voice was small. "Kilgharrah. The Great Dragon."

He let the words sink in as Arthur put two and two together. "I never killed it. You let me think that I killed it and you let it go."

Merlin somehow managed to pull even further into himself. "I'm the one who let him out to begin with, from below the castle."

All the lives that dragon had taken, the damage it had wreaked, had been Merlin's fault. It felt as if stones were being piled onto Arthur's chest. Merlin surely couldn't have known what the dragon would do, would never have done it if he had, but it was still ridiculously idiotic to set it free anyway. And then he had _let it go_!

"I know what you're thinking," Merlin said, interrupting his thoughts. "I know it's my fault. I just— I was only trying to help."

"Help _who_?" Arthur shouted, unable to help himself.

Merlin flinched at first, but shouted right back. " _Everyone_! Sometimes it feels like I'm personally responsible for every single man, woman, and child in all the realm, but there's only so much I can _do_! I'm trying my best but—" He stopped and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. His voice returned to the soft, pained one from before. "But I'm just one person."

Arthur felt the anger go from him. He knew the burden Merlin carried, but at least he had never been unable to speak of it, unable to seek out the wisdom of those around him when he needed it. And he could tell Merlin felt the guilt of the action deeply. He placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, a silent gesture of forgiveness. "You are a soft-hearted fool, Merlin," he said, though there was no heat behind the words. "How did you even manage to stop the dragon from attacking any further?"

Merlin sniffled and glanced at him for the briefest of moments. "I'm a Dragonlord. The last Dragonlord."

"But Balinor—" Balinor had been the last Dragonlord, he almost said. But being a Dragonlord was something passed through blood, from father to son. Could that mean... "Balinor was your father?"

Merlin nodded, pressing his lips together tightly.

He had told Merlin that no man was worth his tears, had said that to his dearest friend after the man had only just found his father to lose him again so soon. "I'm sorry," he said. It barely encompassed his sympathy.

+

They set off on their horses after their hunger had been sated, but were forced to make camp when night fell for how far they still were. Merlin remembered to start the fire with his magic, eyes lighting golden as he did.

As the day had worn on, Merlin became less guarded with talking about his magic and had eventually begun to regale Arthur and Lancelot with tales. When Lancelot mentioned just how he had found out about Merlin's magic, Arthur was tempted to knock Merlin off his horse for being so bloody _simple_. Merlin had laughed and asked what that made Arthur, since the prince had never noticed himself.

Later that night, he found himself asking Merlin how he was so okay with letting everyone else take credit for his good deeds.

Merlin kept his eyes closed, halfway to sleep. "I don't do it for the credit," he mumbled. "I'm glad that I'm able to help. Would be nice for some acknowledgement sometimes though."

Arthur didn't reply, simply watched until Merlin's breathing became slower as he fell to sleep.

+

When the next morning came, Arthur remembered that he had left Camelot with a purpose which didn't include being captured by a sorceress and promising treason against his father, the king. They had set out to find a rare plant for an ailment that was laying up many men and women whose livelihood depended on being able to work each day.

They retreated the way they came, the journey far more silent than the previous day. After all that had happened, the three just wanted to retrieve the plant and return to Camelot as quickly as possible, and it chafed that they had to cover the same ground over again.

The next few days were much of the same: riding, storytelling, many, many questions on Arthur's part, and even a few on Lancelot's. When they finally made it back to Camelot, Arthur wanted nothing more than a hot bath and the comfort of his soft bed, but there was a more pressing matter to deal with. After handing off the plant to Gaius, Arthur grabbed the back of Merlin's tunic and dragged him out into the corridor before releasing him.

"My chambers," he commanded.

Merlin quietly accompanied him without question, though he did shoot sidelong glances Arthur's way every so often.

When they arrived, he closed and barred the door to his chambers before dropping into his favoured chair and waving for his servant to sit across from him. "All right, Merlin, out with it."

Merlin took the seat, saying nothing. He was waiting for further prompting, Arthur realized.

"You've been keeping something from me. I _can_ tell when you do that, you know. I've never thought you were so simple as to not have your own secrets, I simply respected a man's right to them, but I think I deserve to know whatever it is you've been carrying around on your shoulders since we met Morgause."

He shifted and glanced down at his lap before raising his eyes again. "It's not really my secret to tell."

Arthur considered this, then leaned forward, pressing his forearms to the table between them. "Is it something that will affect me or my people?"

"Well," Merlin answered, "maybe? I don't know."

" _Merlin_."

"It's about Morgana."

Arthur blinked. If Merlin, who he had recently found out was a sorcerer and Dragonlord, was keeping a secret about Morgana, then the only logical outcome was that it must be in the same vein. "What about her?"

"She has magic." Before he could take the words in, Merlin continued, words fast paced and slightly panicked. "She knows that I know, but she doesn’t know that I have magic too. Which, in hindsight, is probably a discussion we should have had, but I've never actually told anyone about my magic by my own choice. Anyway, I'm pretty certain she's a seer and her nightmares are visions. I have an inkling that says suppressing those visions with sleeping draughts probably doesn't help, but I haven't had the time to test that theory. I w—"

"Merlin."

Merlin peered at him with wide eyes, waiting, lips still parted on an unspoken word.

"Shut up."

He closed his eyes against the forming headache and wondered why he hadn't waited until the next day to question Merlin. The two people who were closest to him secretly had magic the entire time and he hadn't known it. Uther himself could burst through the door proclaiming to be a sorcerer and Arthur wasn't even sure he could muster up the proper amount of surprise for it. Okay, perhaps that was pushing it.

Sighing, he finally forced himself up and away from the table. Merlin followed suit, automatically stepping in to help Arthur from his armour. Merlin waiting on him brought an uncomfortable thought to the front of his mind and he knew it was better to voice it sooner rather than later.

"Should I look for a new servant?" The words were bitter in his mouth, as was the idea of anyone but Merlin being the first person he would see each day. He tried not to examine the ache he felt in the vicinity of his heart, which was something he had become quite proficient at doing over the years.

Merlin's fingers stilled in their ministrations for a few moments before they finally began to move again. "Are you trying to sack me again?"

He wanted to laugh the whole thing off, wanted to take the out that was clearly being offered to him, but he didn't. "It feels like an insult to keep you on as my servant. Knowing what you can do, it's clear that this is below your station."

Merlin stayed silent as he divested Arthur of the rest of his armour and placed it on the table. He came back and grabbed the hem of Arthur's tunic before pausing. "I used to hate being your servant, once. But you were different then. _I_ was different. I'm glad to serve you, Arthur, for however long that I can." He looked into Arthur's eyes with such clear devotion that it almost took the prince's breath away.

"There's something about you, Merlin." His voice had gone soft and several things occurred to him in quick succession. First was that Merlin's fingers were still curled in his tunic. Second was that this meant they stood close enough for him to feel Merlin's breath across his skin. Third, and most damning, was that Merlin's lips looked extremely inviting.

Before he could make a terrible decision, he took a step back. "I _do_ know how to remove my own clothes, even though you may think otherwise."

He could almost have sworn to seeing a flicker of disappointment in Merlin's reflection, but it was surely his own wishful thinking. "Of course, sire," Merlin answered dryly. "I never doubted you for a moment."

He smothered a smile, but was sure his amusement was still easily seen in his eyes. "Go to sleep, Merlin."

Merlin grinned. "Yes, sire."

Arthur pulled the rest of his clothes off after Merlin had gone and collapsed into his bed still naked. The furs felt exquisite against his bare skin after so long in the forest and he let out a contented sigh. His last thought before sleep was of familiar blue-gold eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me I'm lonely lmao  
> [@pratboyfriends](https://pratboyfriends.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur wants, Morgana learns, and a man is arrested for sorcery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished writing chapter six last night! I'm fond of it, so I hope you guys will be too when it gets posted. uwu  
> For now, here is chapter three.

 "I have it on good word that the sun rose to see you, Arthur. Keeping her waiting is hardly princely."

Arthur groaned, unwilling to leave the comfort of his soft, soft bed.

"That's no way to treat the sun," Merlin chirped, voice far too cheerful for the time of day, too cheerful for how he was purposefully agitating the crown prince.

His furs were yanked from him suddenly and he immediately curled up to try to retain his warmth. The air was cold on his skin and he flung a pillow over his shoulder, hopefully hitting his useless servant with it, then grabbed about the bed to cover himself.

"Apparently your ability to _undress_ yourself doesn't extend to _redressing_ ," Merlin remarked and it took Arthur perhaps longer than it should have to realize that he was naked. He pushed up quickly, throwing another pillow Merlin's way, which the man simply dodged with a laugh. "Come on, you need to wash."

Arthur peered at the tub, still drowsy, but more inclined to leave his bed if it meant being able to get clean and soak away the tension in his back. "It's not even warmed yet."

Merlin smirked and set his gaze on the water. " _Onhǽte þá wæter_."

Steam began to rise from the tub in an alluring fog and Arthur finally slid from his bed. He tested the water with his hand first, then eagerly climbed in, settling low so his knees stuck out. It pulled a groan from his chest and his eyes fell shut. "Are you telling me I could have had a warm bath within seconds all this time?"

"It's not as easy at it looks, you know. I had to practice that one a lot before I stopped setting the water boiling, as I’m sure you remember."

Arthur listened as Merlin moved around his chambers, more grateful than he would ever say for the man choosing to remain his servant. The footsteps reached the tub just before a light touch to Arthur's knee urged him to sit up. He kept his eyes closed as he sunk his knees below the water and rested his arms and head on them, giving Merlin access to his back.

The soapy cloth scrubbed away the dirt and grime, which was nice, but the most satisfying part came after, when the cloth was abandoned for Merlin's hands, which pressed into his skin and muscle with purpose. Knots he hadn't even realized were there began to loosen under Merlin's deft fingers. Of all things he complained about, he had never made ill comment against Merlin's ability where massages were concerned, afraid that it might mean a stop to them. He could admit to himself now in a way he couldn't at first that it was also just a comfort to have Merlin's hands upon his skin.

When his manservant finally pulled away, he stifled his chagrin and lifted his head, holding his hand out for the cloth so he could wash the rest of himself.

After he was out and dressed, he went about his day as he normally would, Merlin at his side as always. There was still much they had to talk about, but it would have to wait until evening.

He made it a point to stop in on Morgana, watching her to see if there was anything about her he hadn't noticed before he knew she had magic. She eventually kicked him out for behaving strangely and he caught sight of Merlin rolling his eyes as they left. Morgana was the same as ever, so maybe Merlin was within his right to, even if it _was_ extremely disrespectful to do within view of his prince, not that that had ever stopped him before.

Arthur hoped to himself that it never would.

+

Their normal routine quickly altered itself to make room for magic. When they could, they took trips into the forest, where he would practice defending himself against basic magical attacks, to varying levels of success. When there was any discussion of magic or sorcerers at his father's meetings, he discussed it with Merlin after, assessing the threat and planning on what to do about it. And when the sun dropped each night and he had no further responsibilities to tend to, he and Merlin would sit in his chambers and talk until they were too tired to continue.

On several occasions, they—and sometimes Lancelot, as well—would ride off to confront some magical beast or being that was tormenting the citizens, and Merlin never complained once about being unable to take any of the credit.

It was on one of these nights that Merlin told him that he needed to talk to Morgana. It needn't have been spelled out, as they both knew what was being referred to. He knew that Merlin still harboured fear over his own magic, that it had been ingrained in him over the years. But he also knew that it was unfair to Morgana to let her go on thinking she was alone or feared. The guilt had been pressing on both of them, but they managed to keep themselves busy enough not to think about it very much.

"I'm going to do it tomorrow," Merlin said, picking at the food in front him, but not really eating. That had been another change to their routine, these shared meals, as Merlin had less and less time for himself as of late with the way he was often detained in Arthur's chambers.

"Good."

"I was wondering if you would be there. I think it would be good for her."

Arthur was surprised by the request, but not displeased. He nodded and Merlin's shoulders sagged with relief.

"After your morning meal, then?"

He agreed to the time and steered the conversation in a new direction. "Have you ever considered using magic to shrink those giant ears?"

Merlin glared and threw a piece of bread crust at him and their supper quickly devolved into a food fight.

+

"All right," Morgana said, after they managed to convince her that they did, in fact, have something important to discuss and had all sat down together, "I'm listening."

After a full minute of silence, Arthur smacked Merlin in the back of his head. "Get on with it, you idiot."

"Right," Merlin said, looking awfully out of his depth.

Arthur sighed and turned his attention back to Morgana. "I know you have magic."

Morgana froze, looking as if he'd thrown a bucket of water at her, and Merlin yelped at his side.

"Arthur! You can't just say it like that!"

"Why not? Should we have sat here until you figured out how to communicate through your minds?"

"Well," Merlin said, avoiding his eyes, and wasn't _that_ interesting?

"Don't tell me you can actually..."

Merlin waved a hand peevishly through the air. "That's hardly important right now."

Arthur remembered what the point of them being there was and tucked the questions away for later.

Morgana had lost the face of shock and had squared her shoulders, concealing her fear in a way that reminded him of Merlin and probably would have been believable if he didn't know her so well. "Have you two been in your cups? This is ridiculous."

"It's okay, Morgana." Merlin's voice was as gentle as his eyes were. "We aren't going to tell anyone. Your secret has always been safe with me, and it will be safe with Arthur."

A muscle in her jaw twitched, but she said nothing.

Merlin took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. He cupped his hands and whispered a spell, opening them to reveal a single butterfly.

Morgana sucked in a small gasp of air, reaching for the butterfly, which flew off as her hand drew near. She looked up at Merlin, eyes shining. "You—"

He nodded, offering a nervous smile. "Have magic. Yeah. I should've told you earlier. I'm sorry."

She shook her head and placed her hand on his, likely too glad to no longer feel alone to harbor any ill feelings. She turned to look at Arthur, eyes slightly narrowed, like she was trying to figure him out. He couldn't blame her, if he was honest. He'd never exactly been an advocate on sorcery.

Arthur knew he had duties to complete, but he decided to shirk them in exchange for sitting with Morgana and Merlin, actually feeling proud of himself in the instances he was able to answer Morgana's questions about magic.

They parted ways late into the afternoon and Arthur felt a little lighter leaving than he had before he came. If the seemingly permanent smile on Merlin's face was anything to go by, their feelings were shared.

+

After training with the knights, Arthur made his way over to the tree Merlin was sitting against as he watched them. He lowered himself to the ground so their arms were pressed against each other and Merlin wordlessly offered him some water.

After drinking his fill, he pressed his head back against the rough bark of tree trunk and stared up at the leaves, enjoying the brisk Autumn air against his heated skin. "Merlin."

"Hmm?"

He lowered his voice, despite there being no one nearby. "When Morgause bound your magic, how did you know?"

"I felt it," Merlin answered and pulled his arms up to cross them over his chest. "I felt... _disconnected_. Not just from the magic that's always flowing through the earth, but from myself."

"That sounds...bad."

He hummed and let his head drop back against the trunk as well. "It was awful. It felt unnatural, like a piece of me was missing."

 _Wrong_ is what Merlin had called it. He couldn't even imagine the feeling. He wondered what it must be like to have magic, to feel it running through you always, and then have it suddenly stripped away. "Are you really different from other sorcerers, then?"

"I don’t know. It's a strange thought."

"How does it feel? Having magic?"

Merlin took his time to find an answer. "It's hard to describe. It feels calm, mostly, when I'm not doing anything. Like air currents almost. Sometimes it's like the feeling that comes before lightning. If I focus, I can sense the connection to the living things around me, to the earth. It might sound silly, but being without it made me feel lonely."

"It's not silly," Arthur said, turning his head towards Merlin, who mirrored the movement. Their faces were so close, too close. It would have been incredibly easy to lean forward and close that short distance, to slide his hand into Merlin's hair and let their mouths meet. The way Merlin was looking at him, he could almost convince himself that they wanted the same thing. But they didn't, couldn't, and Arthur reached up to grab Merlin by the earlobe. "If anything is silly, it's these ridiculous ears of yours."

Merlin scoffed, but didn't bother to remove Arthur's hand. "What is it with you and my ears recently?"

Arthur gave it a tug before letting go. "They're very distracting." And maybe adorable, but he kept that to himself. "I'm certain they're where you're storing all your magic. Explains why you have so much of it."

Merlin huffed and knocked their shoulders together. "Then where do _you_ store your gigantic ego?"

He raised his eyebrows in a very deliberate fashion as a slow smirk curled his lips. It was too easy. He couldn't help himself.

Merlin spluttered when he got the innuendo and pushed Arthur hard enough to fall over. Seeming to realize his mistake as Arthur glared over his shoulder, he scrambled from the ground and fled toward the castle. Arthur took chase, catching him quickly enough and refusing to let go of the hold he'd put Merlin in until the younger plead mercy.

They were both out of breath and laughing by the time they separated and the way Merlin beamed up at him from where he'd been dragged to the ground made Arthur's heart lurch.

No matter the type or length of the distraction, he always ended up back here, back at the wanting. Arthur had always wanted too much.

+

It took less than a moon's turn after Arthur had found out about Merlin's magic for Uther to sentence someone to the pyre. There was very little evidence he had used sorcery, and none at all that he had used it for dark purposes. It was both eye-opening and nauseating for Arthur to realize how many murders of innocent men and women he had been complicit in under his father's rule. And even knowing then what he knew, he was unable to bring himself to openly speak against his father. It would have served no purpose, would not have swayed the king, but _someone_ ought to have spoken out.

A newfound respect for Morgana took root in his chest for the way she had always stood up to Uther, always stood up for what was right, damn the consequences. He was not as good a man as that and, not for the first time, felt inadequate as heir to the throne. He was not as good as Morgana or Merlin or even Lancelot, but he wanted to be.

After the hearing was adjourned, Merlin and Morgana shadowed him back to his chambers, uncharacteristically quiet. As soon as the door was closed, Morgana rounded on them with a steely gaze, determination writ in her features. "All right, how do we free him? What is our plan?"

Merlin hesitated, eyes flickering to Arthur.

"I think Merlin would be best suited to speak to on the matter of magical escapes," he said, ignoring the distant voice in his head professing him a traitor to the throne.

It was easy to ignore when Merlin looked at him with such pride and faith as he did in that moment, like Arthur had passed a test of character.

"Well," Merlin said, "I think it will be pretty easy if we all work together."

Morgana nodded, ready to play her part. Merlin explained the plan.

+

The plan hit an unexpected hiccup when the man refused to leave Camelot. He had a wife and children, he asserted, that needed him. Morgana tried gently to explain that he would be killed as soon as the dawn came and he was found not to be in his cell, which seemed to sway him, but he was still hesitant on leaving.

"Go to Ealdor," Merlin said. "Find Hunith and tell her that Merlin sent you. We will make sure that no harm comes to your family."

The man nodded, casting one last sorrowful glance in the direction of his home before setting off.

"It's not right," Morgana said, righteous anger burning in her eyes. "He may have his life, but he has lost his livelihood, his stability, his wife and children. And for what? Someone thought they saw him use magic to fix a _boot_? Gods, how _evil_ he must be for not wanting to run around barefoot."

Arthur agreed silently and wondered how he had never questioned his father's orders more closely. His father had told him that magic, any and all forms of it, corrupted the soul, and Arthur had accepted that. Even as Morgana became more outspoken of the mistreatment and murder of those with sorcery, even when he _knew_ that Gaius had once in time practiced sorcery and had not been made evil because of it. He had been so blinded and the worst part of it was that he had been _willingly_ so. Because he had looked up to his father. Because it had been easier that way.

"Arthur." Merlin's voice was quiet, filled with understanding and a touch of pity, pity for the idiot prince who was finally learning that the world was even less just than he had thought. He wanted to shake Merlin's hand from where it rested on his shoulder, to shove his own vulnerability behind well-made armour. But Morgana had already left at some point during his daydreaming and his defenses had always been weakest where Merlin was concerned.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling cheap. Sorry would not right his many wrongs.

Merlin looked more than tired; he looked world-weary. Great injustices were ones he learned young and suffered often. Arthur looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of well-placed dislike or abhorrence, but found none.

"Come on, then. If you stay up all night, you'll enter court tomorrow looking more of a mess than you usually do." Merlin fell back on jokes, as he always did, but Arthur had begun to see them as the defense mechanism that they were.

He adopted his haughtiest expression. "Considering that it's your job to make me presentable, you're only slandering your own abilities."

"Oh, I am very good in my abilities," Merlin answered, finally smiling, "but I'm afraid that even the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth couldn't make _you_ presentable."

In absence of a decent rejoinder, Arthur settled for shoving him instead. "Shut up, Merlin."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback if you have a moment to spare, it means so much to me. ♥ ♥ ♥  
> And also feel free to come talk to me on Tumblr. Seriously, all my friends are k-pop friends, I need someone to talk about shows with lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine finally enters the picture.  
> Morgana and Arthur have a heart to heart.

The sorcerer's escape did, of course, draw Uther's ire, but they had all prepared for that. Arthur instilled himself as the one to head the search of the man's home, bringing along only trusted knights who he knew would not needlessly wreck the property. His father was none too happy when they came back empty handed, but there was nothing he could do about the situation other than give the guards who were on shift during the escape a berating. Arthur felt bad about that, but beratement was better than a death, and he did step in to mention that they could hardly be held accountable for someone disappearing with magic.

Overall, it went smoothly, much more smoothly than Arthur would have expected. He told as much to Merlin later on in his chambers. "This whole thing makes me feel slightly better about my not knowing you were a sorcerer. It is _incredibly_ easy to work in the shadows with magic." Frighteningly easy, if he were honest.

"Uther would never dream that his own son and ward would be working against him," Merlin said quietly, knowing his thoughts without him voicing them. "It'll be different for you when you're king."

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran a hand through his hair. "And why is that, Merlin?" His tone was dry, but he still hoped for words of comfort.

Merlin dropped to his knees and removed his boots silently, then paused before looking up, expression serious. "Because trust and loyalty is something that is mutually bred. As long as you give them to your knights and council, which I know you will, then they will return them. Because you will make a fair ruler who leaves few to question his decisions."

Arthur was tempted to tell him that what he spoke was tantamount to treason, implications sewn into his words that Uther was an unjust leader, that he had sowed little trust between himself and those who surrounded him, but Arthur knew it was true. He could not deny that any longer; he was a prime example of the lack of faith given to the king. More compellingly for his lack of reprimand was that he didn't wish to interrupt Merlin, steadfast in his good opinion of Arthur's ability to rule.

"Because you will have Morgana. Because you will have _me_ , until the day that I die."

The thought of Merlin dying twisted darkly in Arthur's stomach. He placed a hand on the junction between Merlin's shoulder and neck, resisting the urge to rub his thumb over the bared skin. "Thank you, Merlin."

The look that came over Merlin's face at the gesture and words was bright enough to blind a lesser man. Merlin was a tactile person, generous with his affection. Arthur had always known this, but trying to reciprocate felt uncomfortable. It just wasn't something he _did_. Prince Arthur of Camelot punched shoulders and slapped backs and made teasing comments. Yet, during the rare moments when he was too tired or worried or injured to care about being vulnerable, he could find no greater source of comfort and relief than physical affection. It was nice to hug, to hold, to simply be in contact with someone else. It was nice to have your affections returned freely and without expectation.

He continued to ruminate over this after Merlin finally retired for the night. He had thought that he could be content with Guinevere. If not for Lancelot, if not for his impending kingship, he could have had a good life with her at his side. He still could, he imagined, in theory, but it would be just that. It would be good. He would be content. When he thought about happiness though, in its truest form, his thoughts always strayed to Merlin.

He hadn't realized it at first, but it became increasingly clear to him. When he fantasized about running off and starting life anew, away from the burdens of nobility, it hadn't been Guinevere he had imagined coming with him. It had been Merlin, would probably always be Merlin. And it was in Merlin's words that he found strength, in Merlin's touch that he found solace, and in Merlin's smile that he found warmth. Once he had finally accepted this, he was fiercely glad for not pursuing Guinevere any further. She deserved better, deserved Lancelot, as Lance deserved her.

It made little difference for him in the end. Even if Merlin felt the same way, there could be nothing for them. Merlin too deserved better than what Arthur could feasibly provide him within the confines of his duties to throne and kingdom.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the persistent ache in his chest that seemed to be ailing him more and more often.

+

"We should tell Gwen."

Arthur looked up from where he was lazily playing dice with Lancelot and Merlin, who didn't seem to have heard Morgana over their own conversation. "Come again?"

"We should tell Gwen," she said, more firmly, finally gaining everyone's full attention.

"I agree," Lancelot answered immediately, because of course he did. With as honourable as he was, Arthur was sure it did not rest well with him to have to lie to her.

Arthur expected Merlin to object, but he only thought it over for a moment and then nodded. "I think you're right. I'm sure we can all say that we trust Gwen." He looked around the group for assent. "I've considered telling her before, actually."

Arthur shoved Merlin's thigh with the sole of his boot, almost causing him to fall from his chair. "And were you considering telling her _before_ or _after_ you told me?"

Merlin huffed and resituated himself next to Arthur's foot that had come to rest on the seat. "It's been months. Can't you let that go already?"

" _Let it go_?" Arthur asked incredulously. "You lied to me for _years_."

He crossed his arms and slumped, looking particularly put out. "I _did_ tell you, you know. You just didn't believe me."

"You _let_ me not believe you." Arthur paused, wondering if that made any sense.

"I can hardly help it if you're too thick to understand basic sentences."

Arthur jabbed his foot into Merlin, who tried fruitlessly to push it off the chair.

"As amusing as it is to watch you two squabble like an old, married couple, I believe we were talking about _Gwen_."

He made a conscious effort not to let his muscles stiffen, as his calf was pressed fully against Merlin's thigh. Morgana had never been one to stop herself from speaking exactly as she thought. If the gleam in her eye as she looked at Arthur was anything to go by, she thought she knew how he felt about Merlin. It seemed she did, but that was hardly reason to give voice to it. He sent her a surreptitious glare, but the laughter in her expression did not give.

"How should we go about it?" Merlin asked, resting his arm on Arthur's shin as if it were an armrest. "Should we have you tell her or should we all be present?"

Morgana considered it. "She'll probably have questions, and I'm sure you're tired of answering them. I'll tell her tonight."

He nodded and the game continued as Morgana returned to the book she had been reading. At some point, Arthur's leg started to go numb from the position, but he wasn't going move before Merlin did.

+

Guinevere took the news much better than Arthur had expected, which made him wonder why he expected anything else to begin with. She was, after all, the dearest friend of a woman who regularly spoke out on behalf of those who practiced sorcery. She was also one of the most compassionate people he had ever met.

It was for this reason he was all the more mortified when she was unable to hold back her initial giggles a few days later when she discovered him transformed and braying in his chambers.

She apologized, but her lips still twitched as she told him she would get Merlin immediately. Not that Merlin was of _any_ help.

"I cannot believe you left that _cursed_ enchantment on me for a whole day!" Arthur yelled as soon as Merlin transfigured him back from the awful donkey-man hybrid he had been. He grabbed at whatever was within reach to throw as Merlin backed away with hands held up placatingly. His servant completely failed to school his features into anything befitting the denial that fell from his lips.

"I had to do _research_ , Arthur!"

"Research, my arse!"

"Exactly!" Merlin called as he ducked behind the changing panel. "I'm glad you understand, sire!"

" _Merlin_!"

+

It was only a fortnight later that Gwaine entered their lives.

 _Gwaine_ , Arthur thought, lips curling downwards.

It wasn't that Arthur _disliked_ Gwaine. He did, in fact, quite like the man. It was only that, in the few weeks since that fateful day in the tavern, he had proven himself a horrible flirt with no discrepancies on where he pointed his charms. It was only that he stopped flirting with Gwen when Lancelot had confronted him, but continued to flirt with Merlin. It was only that Arthur was unable to do anything about it and was instead forced to watch the exchanges between the two men in silence.

It was also that the two seemed to get on spectacularly from the go, an easy camaraderie forming between them in a matter of days where it had taken Arthur and Merlin months.

So, no, Arthur did not dislike Gwaine. It was only that he really disliked the feeling that unfurled in his stomach whenever Gwaine got a bit too friendly with his manservant.

"You look as if you've swallowed a lemon," Morgana commented and Arthur turned to glare at her. She did not look impressed. "If it bothers you that much, just speak to him."

"I'm sure I do not know what you're talking about," he answered, forcing his feet to move him forward.

Morgana, ever a splinter in his side, followed. "Gwaine doesn't mean any harm by it, you know. It's fun for him. I _think_ it's fun for Merlin too."

Arthur's hand clenched and he spared another glance for the two in question, Merlin laughing and Gwaine standing too close for Arthur's comfort. Yes, it _certainly_ seemed fun for Merlin.

"Gods, Arthur, you could kill an army with that look."

He turned into a corridor, gratefully losing sight of Gwaine and Merlin. "What do you want from me, Morgana?"

"I'm just saying that you have an opportunity here."

He stopped short and turned to her, anger pulling his muscles taut. "An opportunity for _what_ exactly?"

Morgana, never one to be cowed, stared at him defiantly, voice lowered as she replied. "I know how you think, Arthur, but you're wrong. That he is a servant and you are crown prince means nothing. You will be _king_ one day and then who will stop you from being with him? You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have at least your heart for yourself."

Finding it pointless to deny his feelings—as if she would have even believed him if he did—he looked around for any prying ears before leaning closer to her. "Even _if_ that were true, even _if_ I could have that, it means nothing if those feelings are not returned."

Her face gentled and she placed a delicate hand on his arm. "Arthur, I know what hopeless love looks like. I know what it is like to want someone who you will never be able to have. This isn't it."

He considered her words, eyebrows drawing together. Not wishing to have the rest of this suddenly _very important_ discussion in a public area, he nodded to their right. "Your chambers."

They strode side by side until they reached them, quietly checking that they were not being watched before they entered, well aware of the impropriety of him joining her alone, as _mad_ as the idea of them doing anything together was.

She poured herself a goblet of wine and offered him the same, which he gladly accepted. In the privacy of her chambers, she let her sadness show more plainly.

"There was someone you...had feelings for?" he asked, wondering who it possibly could have been. Morgana was friendly enough with anyone she found deserving of her kindness, but there had been no man she seemed particularly _fond_ of. In fact, she always seemed to favour the company of women.

"Have," she said softly, following the admission with a long drink.

Arthur pored over everyone in Morgana's life, coming up short on where her affections could possibly lie. Really, there were very few people she spent any significant amount of time with. It certainly wasn't him, and it wasn't Merlin, considering she was pushing Arthur to pursue him. Was she seeing someone secretly?

It hit him suddenly that the simplest answer was more than likely the correct one. If it wasn't him and wasn't Merlin, there was only one other person she could regularly be found with. He felt an absurd urge to begin laughing at the sheer lunacy of the situation.

"You love Guinevere," he said, voice laced in wonder, because what were the _odds_?

She gave him a small smile, looking exasperated. "We make quite the pair, don't we? In love with our own servants. Imagine the blood vessel Uther would _burst_ if he knew."

Arthur smiled back until the solemnity of the situation rolled back in. Even when their relationship was at its most antagonistic, he never wished anything less than true happiness on her. "I am sorry, Morgana."

She shook her head. "I am not."

"How long?"

She sighed and contemplated the question. "I'm not sure. I didn't think about it too critically until recently. Whenever I thought of her future, of her marrying a man and having a life to her own, I thought I was simply sad because it meant that I would see less of my dearest friend."

Arthur wished he could do something to ease Morgana's pain until a thought came to his mind unbidden and he let out a bark of laughter. "Guinevere is an incredibly sought after maiden, it seems."

Morgana narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for him to continue.

"You, Lancelot, myself, even Merlin for a short while."

" _Merlin_?" Her eyebrows rose and Arthur grinned at her. "I thought that was just a crush on Gwen’s end."

"So she didn’t tell you? After that first time Guinevere kissed him, they shared another in private, one that wasn’t being driven by a near death experience. According to Merlin, it was considerably awkward and they never spoke of it again."

Morgana smiled in soft amusement. "I think everyone is a little bit desperate to love someone and be loved in return."

"How—" He stopped and sorted the question out in his head, but he still found it hard to get it out. "How did you...know about..."

She took pity on him, answering so he needn't finish. "I've known you since we were children, Arthur. You're different with him than with everyone else. He's changed you. I should thank him for that, really. You're much more enjoyable to be around than you used to be."

"I take offense to that," he grumbled into his goblet before having a drink.

She smiled slyly at him from over the edge of hers.

+

"You and Gwaine seem to be getting on well," Arthur murmured later that night as Merlin helped to undress him.

"He's great," Merlin said, smiling at the mention of the man.

Arthur hummed noncommittally. He thought so too, most of the time. "He is very...coquettish."

Merlin grabbed a night shirt from the wardrobe and dragged it over his head. "Yes."

"And you don't seem to...mind that."

A quizzical frown formed on Merlin's face. "No? It's just jokes, Arthur. He hardly means any of it, and he flirts twice as hard with Percy and the bar wench at the nearest tavern. What is this about, anyway?"

"Nothing," Arthur said, moving to his bed. "It was just an observation."

Merlin was quiet for a moment and Arthur turned to send him away just as he gave a sharp laugh. "I can't believe you thought there was something between Gwaine and I. It really _is_ just in jest."

"I did not," Arthur protested, trying not to show any of the relief he was feeling at Merlin's unflinching denial of feelings for the man.

Merlin simply rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sire. If that'll be all?"

Arthur tried furiously to keep his face from heating as he waved a hand to dismiss his servant.

+

If, after that night, Gwaine's flirting with Merlin lessened considerably, well, nobody had to know how pleased Arthur was with the development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the user who requested morgana/gwaine, sorry but this chapter had already been written like two weeks ago and also i headcanon morgana as a lesbian.
> 
> i'm currently at the end of ch7 and there's still several more plot points i want to introduce so uhh whomst knows when this story will come to a close... anyway thank you to my readers for coming back again, i appreciate you. uwu


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finds a (temporary) solution to a very serious problem.

It was after a third person went missing from the dungeons that Uther declared that sorcerers would now be killed immediately upon sentencing. The guards grunted as the woman Uther had just found guilty dropped to her knees, as if all the strength had been robbed from her. Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed and Arthur exchanged a panicked glance with Merlin. How were they to save her in plain sight with no planning?

+

They couldn't, was the answer.

+

Morgana refused to dine with Uther that night, as had become a habit with her, and Arthur felt too ill to consider eating. The lot of them—Morgana, Merlin, Guinevere, Lancelot, and himself—converged in Morgana's chambers, the air heavy and stifling.

Guinevere sat with Morgana's head in her lap and her left hand in Lancelot's, who had taken up a chair next to the bed. Arthur was seated near the window with Merlin near his feet, back pressed against the wall.  
"I should have thought of something." Merlin's voice was quiet, but easy to hear in the room's silence.

"It wasn't your fault, Merlin," Guinevere said gently.

"I hate him," Morgana whispered, expression full of loathing. “He deserves to rot in Hell.”

Arthur's jaw ticked. "You can't say that, Morgana."

"What will he do about it? Have my head? I have grown tired of fearing him." She didn't raise her voice, as she normally would when angered, which was mildly concerning.

Merlin kept his head down, legs pulled up to his chest. Arthur wondered if he carried the guilt of every person he could not save. They would be the same in that respect. They were the same in many more things than Arthur had first assumed. Merlin had told him of the prophecy, of them being two sides of the same coin, and it made more and more sense with every day that passed.

He looked around the room, at the drawn faces of his friends. If there was one thing he had wisdom on, it was that languishing over what you hadn't done in a situation proved to be of no help when the situation repeated itself. It was better to turn to what you _could_ do, what you _could_ change, which was not the past. "We need to make a plan, for the next time this happens."

"I was thinking about it," Merlin said, gathering the attention of the room. "The main problem is that it all happened within sight of countless witnesses. We need something to combat that."

Morgana pushed herself up to sitting and Guinevere accompanied the change in position, moving her arm from Morgana's hair to her side. "A fog or smoke, perhaps?"

"That would affect _our_ vision as well. How could we safely remove someone if we can't even see them?"

They proceeded to contemplate various ways to help, having each idea shot down almost as soon it was proposed, until Lancelot cleared his throat.

"Morgause seemed to be a very powerful sorceress," he said, looking to Merlin. "Perhaps you could get her input? I hardly think she would be inclined to turn you away."

Merlin heaved a great sigh. "But I don't know where she is."

"We could go back to the area she first captured us. Perhaps she is still there. It is better than doing nothing."

Arthur rubbed at his temples and nodded. "Lancelot is right. We will accomplish nothing if we don't at least try. We'll set off at dawn."

"And we will stay here and twiddle our thumbs," Morgana added bitterly, "because we are _women_."

"Actually," Merlin hedged, leaning forward, "I have a tome of spells you could go through while we're away. We will need a backup plan if we are unable to find Morgause. Maybe you can find one."

Morgana's eyes lit up at the prospect, but Arthur was horrified. "You have a _tome of spells_? Are you just _trying_ to get yourself executed? Where do you hide it, under your _bed_?"

Merlin pouted (yes, that was definitely a pout) and looked away. " _No_."

A beat passed. There was red tingeing his cheeks.

"Merlin, you _complete_ and utter _imbecile_!"

"It's hardly as if anyone's searching under my bed, now is it?"

Arthur dropped his face into his hands as Morgana's laugh rang across the room.

+

They drove their horses as hard as they could without harming them and made their destination in two days time. Just as Arthur began to wonder how they would find her, a sound to his left caught his attention. Her hood was down this time, but the light of dusk didn't do much to soften her features.

"Morgause."

"Pendragon. You let an innocent die."

Arthur's hands clenched on the reigns. "I didn't know what to do. That's why we're here."

She stared at them for long moment. "You can leave your horses here."

Understanding the implication, they dismounted and tied their horses to the nearest trees. Morgause waited until they had finished and then turned to walk the way she had come, clearly expecting them to follow her.

She lead them to a small dwelling, unassuming in looks from the outside. The inside was filled with what Arthur could only assume were magical potions and artifacts. Merlin seemed particularly interested in a crystal that was roughly the size of his hand.

"This is from the Crystal Cave," he said, turning it about as if it might look different from some other angle. Leave it to Merlin to be interested in a pretty rock.

"Yes," Morgause answered. "It does so make it easier to keep up with what happens in Camelot."

Arthur frowned and inspected the crystal more closely. Maybe Merlin's interest wasn't so foolish. How could it possibly help someone know what was happening so far away?

Merlin shook his head and set it back down. "Uther has decreed that all sorcerers will be executed posthaste after they are sentenced. You are a High Priestess of the Old Religion; surely, you must know a way to help."

Morgause lifted from a table a book and opened it up to a specific page before moving closer and turning it to Merlin. "I had been working on this spell for a more wide-scale purpose, but I believe it would serve your means well."

"What does it do?" Merlin asked just as Arthur narrowed his eyes and said, "Explain this _wide-scale purpose_."

"At its core, it is a sleeping spell. It had been intended for use over all of the citadel, but I believe it would be more efficient on a smaller scale."

"You had intended to put _all of the citadel_ to sleep?" he asked sharply. The idea that she wielded the power _to_ put all of the citadel to sleep was unsettling as it was.

Her tone was not kind when she answered. "You father has slaughtered countless like me. I had very well intended on bringing your kingdom to its knees, Arthur Pendragon, but I did not. You would do well to remember my kindness."

Arthur bit his tongue, disliking the feeling of being indebted to the sorceress, but feeling indebted nonetheless.

"How does this work?" Merlin asked, staring down at the writings intently, Lancelot peering curiously over his shoulder. "You mention a channelling."

Morgause turned her cold gaze from Arthur. "Yes. It must be channelled through a man or woman who not only has magic, but a strong enough magic to handle the spell."

"I could do it," Merlin said immediately.

"The caster and the conduit cannot be one in the same." His shoulders drooped, but Morgause continued. "The Lady Morgana was to be my conduit, before I decided against it."

Arthur and Merlin looked up in unison, shocked.

Morgause lifted a bracelet to Merlin, forcing him to close the book to take it. "This was our mother's. I would like for her to have it, for protection."

 _Our_ mother's. Morgause was...

"Thank you for your help," Merlin said, his voice sounding distant to Arthur. Morgause and Morgana were sisters. "I would see her safe just as much as you."

Morgause nodded and gestured to the door. "You may go. I expect the return of my spells."

"Of course," Merlin said, hugging the book to his chest and then nudging Arthur's arm.

Arthur shook himself from his reverie and gave Morgause a solemn nod before exiting her home.

They found the horses easily enough, not too far out of sight, and decided to make camp just an hour later as dusk began to fall. Merlin studied the spell he would need to complete by the light of the fire for so long that Arthur wondered if he might have fallen asleep with his eyes open. When Arthur said as much and it didn't warrant a reaction, he reached out and shoved Merlin's arm.

Merlin glared at him, but finally closed the book. "You could've made me drop it. I'd like to see you explain to a powerful sorceress why her book of handwritten spells has mud on it."

"What does it say anyway? Can you do it?"

"I think so. It's a bit complicated, but once it's set up, I should be able to trigger and dispel it at will, so long as Morgana is around."

"Morgana and Morgause." He shakes his head. "I can't believe it. Why wouldn't Gaius tell us?"

"Maybe it slipped his mind?" Merlin shrugged. "Doesn't really affect much, does it?"

Arthur knew he was right, logically, but it still rankled him. A small (very small, almost imperceptible) piece of him worried about Morgana's loyalties should the truce between him and Morgause fall.

"Things will be fine, Arthur."

He looked into Merlin's eyes and found only a staunch confidence. "How are you always so sure?"

"I'm not _always_ sure. I have moments when I doubt myself, my destiny. But then I remember the one thing I could never doubt." Merlin paused, expression softening. "You."

Arthur had no response for that, but Merlin just smiled and got up to put away the book, clearly not expecting one. It was truly baffling that he could say those things and continue on as if it were nothing. Arthur couldn't imagine being so open about his feelings. Not for the first time, he was left speechless at Merlin's bravery.

+

The spell involved sets of complicated runes to be carved in the corners of the room and tied to each other in a fashion Arthur couldn't begin to understand. The explanation of what was to happen with Morgana sounded even further like gibberish, until he waved a frustrated hand through the air and told Merlin that he needn't know the specifics.

They—or rather Merlin and Morgana, with Arthur standing by restlessly—laid the spellwork after night had fallen and the throne room was empty. When they finished, Merlin was so impatient to put it to the test that he didn't even wait for Arthur to take a seat.

When he blinked awake to Merlin's apologetic face above his and a painful lump on his head, he assumed it must have worked.

"It's strange," said Morgana. "I didn't feel a thing. I thought I would have _felt_ something."

" _I_ felt something," Arthur replied peevishly, pushing himself up and glaring off Merlin's attempt to help.

Merlin continued to look repentant. "Sorry. Perhaps I'll look into a cushioning spell."

+

When they finally had to use it for its intended purpose, it worked perfectly, which Uther was none too happy about.

It wasn't a permanent fix, but it was something.

And when Arthur was finally able to excuse himself from his father's side, he went to his chambers expecting a content manservant and good wine, but instead found neither. He stomped back out and made his way to where he was sure he would find both. The door to Morgana's chambers was left cracked a few inches for him and he pushed it the rest of the way open, barging in with a glare. "You know, it shouldn't be the duty of the crown prince to search out his own servant in someone else's chambers."

He found Merlin lying the wrong way across the bottom of Morgana's bed as she sat with her back to the headboard, pillow in her lap. "He couldn't look me in the eye for a week," she was saying, a wide smile across her face.

Merlin laughed. "You would have loved—"

Arthur cleared his throat, cutting into the conversation. They both gave him unimpressed looks. "Getting quite comfortable in here, are you, Merlin?" He placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the man. "Do you have no care for propriety whatsoever? The door isn't even _closed_."

Merlin's eyed shone golden before the door slammed shut, making Arthur start.

" _Merlin_!"

"I closed the door! Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, what I _wanted_ was to find you in my chambers where you _should_ have been instead of lazing around here gossiping like a _girl_."

"Oh, please," Morgana rejoined. "The knights are some of the worst gossips in Camelot and there's not a single girl among them."

Merlin snorted and exchanged a wry smile with her. They were truly insufferable together. He rubbed his temples and tried to conjure up some form of patience, but was ultimately unable to keep the frustration from his voice. "With me, Merlin. Now."

With a put-upon sigh, Merlin slid from the bed and said goodnight to Morgana before obediently following his prince out. He stayed silent just until they were inside Arthur's chambers. "Are you going to start thinking there's something going on between me and Morgana now?"

"What? That's disgusting. Thank you for putting _that_ thought in my head."

"I mean, 'no sense of propriety'? I was just lying there." Merlin began cleaning up automatically, which he really only did without prompting when he was apologetic or angry. And he was definitely not feeling apologetic. "It's not as if anyone would be coming and going in there aside from Gwen. Jealousy makes you an even bigger ass than usual, you know."

Arthur stiffened as Merlin continued to pick up and organize his chambers. He really hadn't thought that anything untoward was happening between Merlin and Morgana, but he could admit that the incident with Gwaine hadn't been the first time he'd been bothered by someone getting too friendly with his manservant. Was he really that transparent?

"Honestly, Arthur, I know you're used to receiving everyone's undivided attention and all and it probably wears on you to see your _servant_ of all people getting preferential treatment, but can't you just let it go when it happens? Is it so awful that a few people actually like me?"

 _Merlin, you blind idiot._ To think Arthur had been worried for even a moment that Merlin understood the feelings driving his agitation was absurd. He felt relief at the misunderstanding, but just mostly; sometimes he did wish Merlin knew, if only so he could stop worrying about accidentally slipping up. "I'm sorry."

His apology caused Merlin to stop his rant suddenly and stand up straight. "Oh. Well. Apology accepted."

Arthur let out a small laugh and ran his hand over his face, eyes falling shut. He was in love with a fool. "And plenty of people like you, Merlin. Why else would we all put up with your insipid prattle and cloddish ways?"

When he received no answer, he removed his hand to find Merlin staring at him with a small—almost hopeful looking—smile. It made him want to follow up with something rude or sarcastic, because then the smile would fall and he wouldn't have to worry about that damned soft feeling that was fluttering in his chest. Things didn't _flutter_ in princes' chests, and certainly not Arthur's. It was downright undignified.

He managed, by some miracle, not to mutter an insult, because as much as he wished the fluttering feeling would disappear, he was beginning to find it more bearable than the sinking feeling he got whenever he upset Merlin instead.

For the rest of the night, his manservant was in an exceptionally pleased mood. It left Arthur to wonder about just how much his good opinion really meant to Merlin. And it was a mixture of this curiosity and his general desire to make Merlin happy that spurred his proclamation just as Merlin was set to leave.

"I know I never say it, but I _am_ glad to have you as my servant."

Merlin's eyes crescented. "Despite my insipid prattle and cloddish ways?" he pressed playfully.

Arthur snorted. "Perhaps even because of it."

The way Merlin's face lit up was well worth dealing with the soft, fluttering, ill-fated feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm halfway through Chapter 10 and getting impatient with my own story lol. I want to write them getting together already, but there's still some plot points I want to include.
> 
> Let me know what you think about the story/characters so far. Do you think anyone is OOC? Am I updated the fic too often? (I know some people find it hard to keep up with multiple fics updating very regularly.) Is there a canon plot point you want me to touch on or character you'd like me to bring into the fold?


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin was behaving oddly.

Well, Merlin was _always_ behaving oddly, but it had gotten more so over the past several days, which Arthur hadn't realized was possible. It was all the characteristics he'd come to associate with his manservant but amplified. He was distracted, clumsy, flighty at the mere mention of chores or work, and brushed Arthur off with a forced smile when the subject was broached. In addition, there were bags forming under his eyes and he once magicked the spilled wine back into its decanter instinctively because the apparent lack of sleep made him forget that magic was still punishable by _death_ within Camelot.

The final straw came as Arthur had been near the end of a training session with the knights as well as Gwaine, Percival, and Lancelot. Merlin had been polishing one of Arthur's swords, but _polishing_ was a term to be loosely used, as his hand and cloth had been stilled on the sword since he'd picked it up. With a quick move, Arthur knocked Percival to the ground and stomped over to where he sat. " _What_ has gotten into you lately?"

He looked up, startled. "What?"

" _Merlin_ , you've been even _more_ inept than you usually are these last three days. _What_ is going on?"

"It's nothing."

That was clearly not the truth and it smarted more than he would let on to be lied to again. He had thought they were past that.

Merlin sighed, reading his expression far better than he ever wished for it to be read. "It's nothing you need to know about. You have your own princely duties to worry about right now. I have it under control. I promise."

He stared Merlin down until he was sure the man was being honest and then nodded. Merlin gave him a small smile and Arthur had been on the verge of returning it when Gwaine called his name.

"Are we done for the day?"

Arthur turned and saw that while everyone else had the good sense to ignore the prince's abrupt departure and ensuing conversation, Gwaine was watching them with a smirk. He realized how ridiculous he must seem, getting so bent out of shape over his servant's personal life.

"No," he barked, grabbing Merlin by the arm and hauling him to his feet. " _You_ , go find some way to be useful before I put you in the stocks."

Merlin glared at him, but left, which was for the best, really; Arthur didn't need any further distractions. Gwaine's smirk hadn't dropped and Percival was glancing at him surreptitiously, eyebrows raised. He resettled his grip and took a breath. Gwaine was going to regret ever smirking in his life if Arthur had anything to do about it.

(Two hours later, when he finally let the exhausted group of men leave, Gwaine still looked more amused than he had any right to be. Crown princes didn't sulk, but Arthur thought that maybe he could be permitted to this once, in the privacy of his rooms. His manservant was nowhere to be found either, so he thought he was doubly entitled.)

+

A loud banging noise startled Arthur from his sleep that night, followed by a very familiar, " _Ow_." He sighed and fell back to the bed, tension bleeding from his limbs now that he knew he wasn't about to be attacked in his nightshirt.

"Merlin, _what_ are you doing?"

The room was suddenly awash in light as flames leapt to life. After allowing his eyes to adjust, he could see that Merlin stood at the foot of the bed cradling a cloth-covered object in his hands. "I know it's late. Or early. I'm not really sure. It's just, I thought now would be as good a time as any?"

Arthur huffed and drew himself into a seated position. Obviously, his incompetent manservant was not going to be going away quickly. "As good a time for what, exactly? Being put in the stocks?"

Merlin winced, then looked back down at whatever it was he held and seemed to get a new bout of energy. He moved to Arthur's side and sat on the edge of the bed, earning himself two raised eyebrows which he doggedly ignored. Arthur expected him to unveil the object, but he didn't. "I know that your feelings about Kilgharrah are probably...not very positive," he started, making Arthur snort.

"No, I can't say that my feelings about a dragon which tried to burn my kingdom down are very _positive_ , Merlin."

"Right. It was wrong. I know that. But Kilgharrah does too. His family was slaughtered, Arthur. _Every single dragon_. And then he was imprisoned for twenty years in isolation." Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin held up a hand to stay him. "It doesn't excuse what he did. Trust me, I know that. But he is no threat to us now."

"What exactly are you getting at here?"

"Well, I just thought, you'd have to meet him someday?" Merlin's face was idiotically hopeful as he waited for Arthur to parcel through the meaning.

"You want me to go meet the Great Dragon? _Now_?"

"Don't look at me like that. I know how it sounds. But, well, I have to go see him anyway, and it's a special occasion, so I thought you might have wanted to be there." His eyes strayed again to what was in his hands and Arthur wanted to take whatever it was and smack him in the head with it.

"What special occasion could there possibly be which involves meeting a dragon?"

Finally, finally, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a smooth and light blue... egg? Arthur put the pieces together immediately. "This is dragon's egg," he said flatly. He couldn't believe it even as he saw that it was true.

"Yes. I'm going to bring it to Kilgharrah. Maybe he can hatch it."

Arthur's gut reaction told him to grab the egg and toss it from the window, to stop another possible threat before it could be born, but he knew that was wrong. Dragons were not mindless beasts. They used to live at peace amongst the people, ruled by their Dragonlords. There was only one still alive, thanks to his father, and he wasn't about to follow in those footsteps and destroy what was possibly the only egg left.

He found himself nodding before he even really decided. "All right. Go fetch me my clothes."

Merlin smiled and passed him the egg before all but flying to the wardrobe. He stared down at the egg, holding it awkwardly as if it were a newborn baby. There was a dragon in there. Merlin had found another dragon. _Wait, how_ did _Merlin find another dragon?_

"Where did you even get this from? Have you been off gallivanting behind my back? Is that why you've been so out of sorts?"

"I wouldn't use the term _gallivanting_ ," Merlin said, returning with a bundle of clothing.

Arthur set the egg in the center of the bed as he stood to dress. "We're going to have a long talk about this tomorrow," he warned, "after I've gotten enough sleep to properly yell at you."

Once he was dressed, Merlin grabbed the egg and covered it over again, pulling it close as if to shield it with his on body. "I'm surprised you didn't ask for your armour."

"If your dragon decides to burn me to a crisp, some metal plating isn't going to stand in the way."

"Kilgharrah is not _my_ dragon and you won't say that in front of him if you know what's good for you."

"I keep _you_ on as my personal servant, Merlin. _Clearly_ I don't know what's good for me."

"Arse."

+

Merlin set the egg gently on a stump of wood and took a few paces back. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur almost nervously. "I have to call him now."

Arthur waved a hand, a signal to _get on with it_. Only he wasn't at all prepared for what calling the dragon would sound like. He wasn't proud of it, but he startled as Merlin began shouting at the sky. When it was done, he managed to shelf his surprise and ask what they did now.

Merlin shrugged. "Now, we wait."

It didn't take long before they began to hear the flapping of wings drawing closer. When the dragon touched down in front of them, Arthur had to fight against every instinct in order to hold his ground. The dragon tilted his head as he took in the scene.

"It seems much has happened since last we spoke." It was shocking to hear something come from the dragon that wasn't a roar.

Merlin chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

Arthur's eyes flicked over to him briefly and Kilgharrah gave what Arthur assumed was an approximation of an amused snort.

"Is it still alive?"

"It can live for more than a thousand years."

Merlin gave a relieved sigh and smiled. "So you are _no longer_ the last of your kind."

Kilgharrah looked immensely pleased. "It would seem not."

"When will it hatch?"

"Young dragons were called into the world by the Dragonlords. Only they had the power to summon them from the egg. As the last Dragonlord, this solemn duty falls to you, Merlin."

Merlin had lost his smile and looked at the egg, uncertainty crossing his face before determination took its place. "How do I summon?"

"You must give the dragon a name."

 _Well, that seems simple enough_ , Arthur thought. He watched the egg, waiting, but the field was quiet. When he finally looked back to Merlin, he saw that his friend's eyes were closed, face serious.

When the name came— _Aithusa_ —Merlin's voice was again altered, but Arthur barely paid that fact mind as his eyes were drawn back to the egg which began to crack under the moonlight. It broke away pieces of the shell, revealing a tiny white creature that he could hardly believe would eventually grow to such an immense size.

"A white dragon is indeed a rare thing. And fitting, for in the dragon tongue, you named him after the light of the sun." The drake continued to clear the shell away as Kilgharrah talked. "No dragon birth is without meaning. Sometimes the meaning is hard to see, but this time, I believe, it is clear. A white dragon bodes well for Albion. For you and Arthur."

Arthur looked up and found his wonder reflected in Merlin's eyes, who laughed and wiped tears from his face.

"And for the land you will build together." Kilgharrah turned his gaze meaningfully to Arthur on the last word. It was one thing to learn of this supposed destiny of his through Merlin and a whole other to have the Great Dragon impressing it upon him. It felt surreal. "And I believe I owe you an apology. They did not deserve the punishment for your father's crimes."

"No," Arthur answered, shaking off the trance-like state he had entered, "they did not."

Kilgharrah bowed his head momentarily before lifting it again. "I have faith in the world you will build with Merlin at your side."

He could only manage a hard nod. His heart was not as forgiving as Merlin's and an apology would not restore the lives taken.

Aithusa made a small sound, pulling Arthur's attention. He stood on his hind legs and stretched his wings, staring at Merlin, who had begun to walk towards him. Merlin sunk to his knees in front of the stump and stretched out a hand, laughing when Aithusa nudged his palm.

"Arthur, come here."

He moved cautiously, wondering if drakes could breath fire and if they knew when _not_ to. Aithusa grabbed onto Merlin's arm and climbed up to his shoulder, peering at Arthur curiously. It made another sound and Arthur had to admit that the little beast was cute. He reached out and ran two fingers over the top of Aithusa's head. He was _petting a dragon_. It was unreal.

Merlin stood and Aithusa flapped his small wings, taking flight, seeming as wobbly flying as a foal might be walking. Landing on Kilgharrah's paw made the Great Dragon laugh and Merlin looked on fondly. "We should be going then," he said, though it seemed like that was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'd like to get some sleep before this one makes me muck stables or become a practice dummy."

Arthur made an affronted noise at being referred to as 'this one' and silently promised to be ruthless during the next day's training for his insolence.

"Thank you, Merlin," Kilgharrah spoke, voice filled with emotion.

He smiled as Aithusa climbed to Kilgharrah's back and the two took off into the night sky. It was only once they were out of view that he turned to Arthur. "Thank you."

Arthur frowned. "For what? I only stood here. In fact, I'm wondering why you bothered dragging me out here to begin with."

Even the complaining couldn't wipe the smile from Merlin's face. "Just say, 'You're welcome,' you prat."

"You're welcome, you prat," Arthur said imperiously. "Now let's get back. It's cold out here."

+

Merlin followed Arthur to his chambers habitually, even though there was nothing that he needed. He watched his servant wobble despite standing still, fighting against sleep now that the excitement of a new dragon had waned, and he knew he wasn't very far behind. With a sigh, he pulled Merlin by the arm to the bed, despite knowing how deeply inappropriate the action was. Merlin blinked in confusion as Arthur gently pushed him to sit on the feather mattress and crossed around to the other side of the bed.

"Take your boots off," he said, a demand which Merlin responded to immediately.

"Why?" he asked, though the footwear was already off.

Arthur shook his head, amused by the disorientation brought on by sleep deprivation. "Because I said so."

Merlin nodded, accepting the answer, which he never would have done if he had been any more lucid.

Discarding his own boots as well as his breeches on the floor, Arthur climbed onto the bed and under the covers. "Lie down, Merlin. And snuff out the lights."

Merlin did so without comment, though he didn't bother getting under the covers himself. Arthur sighed and tugged them out from under the man to toss over him blindly. He was asleep almost instantly, leaving Arthur to his thoughts in peace.

A few months ago, the idea of bringing Merlin into his bed would have been laughable. Regardless of his own feelings, there were certain lines not to be crossed. Sure, they had slept close before when they were away from the citadel and in need of body heat, but this was something else entirely.

Things had been changing between them, between all of them, since Morgause had revealed Merlin's magic. He didn't know how, or if he was only imagining, but sometimes it was like he could _feel_ the future rewriting itself. At the same time, whenever they all gathered around in Morgana's chambers, he felt a great rightness with the world, as if he was coming home after a long period away. The lines between royal and peasant, friend and servant, were becoming more blurred than ever before.

He stared into the dark, unable to see Merlin beside him. Considering the trespass he was already committing, he decided to allow himself one more indulgence and shifted closer, hand searching out and then wrapping around Merlin's arm.

There would be repercussions in the morning. There always were, whenever he did something he _wanted_ rather than what he knew he _should_. But, for now, the bed was warm and his eyelids were heavy and the morning was a lifetime away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. This update is a bit late, I'm sorry. Real life has been... pretty awful recently. Our oldest dog was sick and we had to put her to sleep yesterday. So I haven't written anything in over a week. Apologies in advance if my schedule runs later than usual from now on. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter though. There needs to be more fics featuring Arthur with Aithusa.  
> (I thought Aithusa was a girl for years before I rewatched the hatching scene to write this chapter. Wild.)


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur woke up with his forehead pressed between Merlin’s shoulder blades, one arm caught between his chest and Merlin’s back, the other under his pillow. The bedclothes had been pushed down through the night and he decided after a few breaths to shimmy his arm out from between them to pull them back up. Unsure of where to put his arm after, he hesitated for an instant before wrapping it around Merlin’s stomach.

He kept his eyes closed, listening to familiar steady breaths and the occasional mumble. Merlin didn’t exactly smell like flowers or fruits, as a woman might have, but he found that he didn’t mind very much. He was well used to the smells of sweat and earth and men kept too long in close quarters when it was necessary. It was just nice to have someone there, nicer for it to be Merlin.

Merlin, who would probably awake confused and embarrassed and question why Arthur hadn’t just sent him back to his own room. Arthur could find an excuse, of course, but the believability of it may be lessened somewhat if he remained pressed against the man’s back in a lover’s embrace.

He should have moved, should have gotten out of bed and woken Merlin with complaints about his sleeping in, but he didn’t. It might be all he ever gets, he reasoned, though the thought was quickly pushed to the recesses of his mind.

It left him feeling wrong-footed, how different things were with Merlin compared to everyone else, how vulnerable he let himself be, how much of himself he let show or that Merlin forced him to show. It used to make him angry, that someone could do that to him; it was a weakness he had no interest in having. That eventually gave way to resignation, especially after he learned of their entwined destinies. Merlin was as much a part of him and the lungs he used to draw air.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt Merlin stir. There was some small amount of movement and he expected to soon find himself in an empty bed, but Merlin simply grabbed his hand and pulled it up to his own chest. He could feel Merlin’s heartbeat under his curled fingers and hoped Merlin couldn’t feel his, which was beating a bit too quickly for sleep.

Not daring to move, Arthur wondered at what the in the realms was going on. Was Merlin awake at all? Did he know what he was doing? Probably not, but Arthur let himself believe otherwise for a selfish moment. He let himself fall into the vagary for a minute or two before cracking his eyes open and pulling away, rolling over onto his back. He stretched and considered waking Merlin, then remembered how tired the man had been the past few days and decided to give him the morning off this once.

Arthur's kindness seemed all for naught when he looked up after readying himself for the day to see Merlin blinking at him with owlish eyes. There was a pregnant pause as they both stared until Arthur snapped out of it and set a hand on his hip, hoping his expression was in order. "Finally awake, are you?"

"Well, you can hardly expect me to sleep when you're stromping about, now can you?" Merlin quipped, not looking at all bothered by the fact that he was still, in fact, in Arthur's bed. "I am curious though… Did your clothing mortally offend you today or did you just feel like teaching your tunic a lesson?"

His eyes dropped down to his chest for an instant, at the tunic he more or less had to wrestle on, but he refused to let himself color at the remark. Besides, the tunic was being particularly difficult; he wouldn't have been surprised if it had been _magicked_ so.

"I did not use magic on it, Arthur," Merlin responded to the unspoken accusation, rolling his eyes.

"As if I'd believe you," Arthur returned. "And get out of my bed already."

"Oh. Right." Merlin pushed himself up and yawned, stretching his arms out in front of him. He gave a lazy look to the hearth and his eyes flashed before wood began piling itself up. When the stack was finished, it promptly set flame and he smiled, pleased at his work.

Arthur remembered clearly how the sight of golden eyes used to make his gut churn, back when it was only ever used by his enemies. He felt none of the trepidation when he watched Merlin or Morgana use magic, other than the irrational fear that someone might catch them, regardless of whether there was another soul around to see or not.

Merlin slid off the bed and stared down curiously at his feet. "Did you command me to take off my boots last night?"

 _Here come the questions_ , Arthur thought, and steeled himself for a minor interrogation. "Well, I certainly wasn't going to let you put those filthy things on my bed."

With a nod, Merlin pulled them back on and stood, looking around to locate any other discarded garments. Arthur kept waiting for the inevitable, but Merlin was apparently content to leave the conversation there. That was just fine by him.

+

He had thought that, for once, he had managed to get away with something, but the repercussions he had been worried about presented themselves in a way he hadn't planned on.

He noticed it two days later while they were on their way to an outlying village and had stopped to set up camp. Usually, Merlin set their bedrolls relatively close to each other, especially when they had other men with them, preferring to be closer to Arthur than any of the knights. For this occasion, they had brought tents to provide some shelter from the wet and windy weather, which meant the two of them sharing one to themselves. When he entered the tent that night, the bedrolls were as far from each other as the space allowed and Merlin's back was facing him.

Getting into his own bedroll, he wondered if he hadn't upset the man earlier without realizing it, but Merlin showed no signs of anger the next morning. It happened again when night fell and it struck Arthur that Merlin was probably trying to keep his distance while they slept because he had woken up to Arthur's arm around him before.

He had probably still been dazed when he awoke in Arthur's bed, not even realizing who was wrapped around him until he fully came to. And coupled with the fact that Arthur had practically forced him to sleep there in the first place, it was no wonder that Merlin wanted to keep space between them. It hadn't seemed like there was any problem at first, but he knew how skilled Merlin could be at keeping things hidden.

"I'm not going to attack you in your sleep," he grumbled, then started when Merlin, whom he thought was asleep, snorted at him.

"I'm hardly worried about that," came the muffled reply.

He glared at what he could see of the back of the man's head from where he was lying. "Then what _are_ you worried about?"

"Why do you think I'm worried about anything?"

"If you weren't afraid of getting rained on while you slept, you would probably be sleeping on the other side of camp right now. Clearly _something_ is wrong and this only started after..." His voice trailed off, but Merlin picked up the sentence with ease.

"I slept in your bed?" Merlin snorted again. "Trust me, Arthur, I am in no way under the impression that you're planning to attack, jump on, or otherwise cuddle me in my sleep."

Arthur huffed in exasperation. "Than _what_ is your issue?"

There was a long pause and a shuffling before an answer was mumbled. He must have buried further into his bedroll, because Arthur couldn't hear a word of it. "Speak up, you dunce."

Another pause, shorter this time. "I'm worried about the opposite," he bit out grudgingly, as if the confession had taken some great will to speak. Not that it made any sense still.

"The opposite of what? Do you enjoy talking me in circles?"

"It was nice, all right?" His voice was strained, frustrated. "I forgot how nice it is to sleep so close to somebody and so I'm going to keep away until I can forget it again."

Arthur blinked, amusement curling his lips. "You mean you're worried _you_ might attack _me_ in my sleep?"

Merlin didn't dignify the taunt with a response.

With a sigh, Arthur climbed out of his bedroll and dragged it up behind Merlin's. He got into it again, pressing their backs together through the material. It was silent, but comfortable, and he soon found himself drifting to sleep.

+

The creature that had reportedly been bothering the village was some cross between a bird and a stag but was extremely quick. Merlin recognized the description as a peryton, not that having a name for it was of any help. It was in the nearby wood, apparently keeping the local men from hunting, which was a dire necessity if they wanted to keep the village fed with winter on their tail. One of the men had wounded it a few days prior, but paid for that wound with his own life.

Arthur called for the knights to fall into a defensive formation as they began slowly making their way through the wood. The air prickled against his skin and Merlin murmured that the land was brimming with magic. No sooner had the words been spoken, the beast flew down and grabbed one of the knights up with its talons before throwing him into two others.

It let out a loud bellow, visibly shaking a few of the men, before it came down again. Arthur shouted orders, but the creature moved faster than anything at its size had a right to. They were eventually forced to retreat, where they were met by waiting townsfolk. His two wounded knights were taken off to be treated and he was faced with a crowd of disappointed faces.

"We won't leave until the creature is taken care of," Arthur assured the people, then turned to his knights and tasked them with setting up the tents. He grabbed Merlin's arm and escorted him far enough away not to be overheard while the others were occupied.

"I don't think we should kill it," Merlin blurted out as soon as they came to a stop. "It feels like the wrong thing to do."

"Well, we can't exactly let it _stay_ here, Merlin. It's _killed_ a man already."

"The man attacked first. It did what any creature would. I'm just saying I get the same feeling from the peryton that I did from the unicorn."

Arthur sighed and tried to stave off the incoming headache. "What do you propose we do then?"

Merlin frowned as he considered. "I was thinking maybe try to get it to leave on its own? Magical creatures are usually much smarter than non-magical ones."

"And if that fails?" Arthur pressed.

"Then I can take it down with my magic much quicker than your men can."

Arthur nodded, but it wasn't possible for him and Merlin to sneak off without being noticed, and what would they say when they returned with news of its defeat? "How would we explain that I and my _non-magical_ , bumbling fool of a manservant managed to defeat what the whole group of knights could not?"

"I could say I remembered some of the notes on the peryton that gave us an advantage." Merlin shrugged. "I can make something up."

"I'm sure you can," he answered, eyes narrowing.

Merlin's arms flew up, one nearly smacking him in the face. "How long are you going to hold this against me? I had to lie to you, Arthur, at least at the beginning."

He attempted to raise an eyebrow in the fashion that Gaius did, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Until I well please."

Blowing out a breath, Merlin deflated and glared at him. "You're such a _child_."

"Stop muttering, Merlin, and figure out an excuse to get— Where are you going?"

Merlin continued walking off toward the tree line without answering, forcing Arthur to follow.

"Get back here. We haven't even told the men where we're going."

"It seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?" He paused and turned when he reached the edge of the wood. "You should probably tell them not to join."

Arthur looked to see a few men warily beginning to follow the two and signaled them off. Leon hesitated the longest before finally turning back to join the others.

"Do you even have a plan or are you just going to run in there and hope things work themselves out?"

"Mostly the latter," Merlin answered, then made an abrupt stop.

Arthur's hand went to his sword. "What is it?"

Merlin didn't reply, simply changed course and began walking again. Arthur really had to have a conversation with him about which one of them carried princely authority and which did not. Although, he supposed Merlin was the closest thing to magical royalty as there was. The thought made him mildly uncomfortable.

They walked for only a short while longer before Merlin slowed and Arthur felt that strange prickling again, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The swoosh of air was the only warning sound before the peryton dived for them. Merlin threw up his hands and the beast seemed to glance off an invisible wall. It flew back to the treetops and shook itself before trying a second time, to the same effect.

When it descended again, it wasn't to attack, but to land some distance away, striking up a small whirlwind of leaves. It paced back and forth, gaze never leaving them, seemingly unsure of what to do.

Merlin lowered his hands and took a small step forward, causing the creature to still.

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed.

Merlin took another cautious step. "Stay there."

He groaned internally at the non-answer. His own servant was going to be the death of him.

"I don't want to hurt you," Merlin said, voice raised, and it took him a moment to realize the statement was being directed at the peryton. " _We_ don't want to hurt you."

After a few more steps, the peryton made a threatening sound, but Merlin continued to advance anyway.

"It's okay. You can trust me. I met your cousin, the unicorn, you know? Very majestic, just like you."

He rolled his eyes at Merlin's babbling, but felt a fresh wave of guilt over the incident with the unicorn.

"That's it," Merlin said gently, ever closer to the beast. Arthur made to walk toward them, worried for Merlin's safety, but the peryton's eyes shot his way and he aborted the step. "It's okay. Arthur won't hurt you either, _will you, Arthur_ ? In fact, Arthur is even going to _put away his sword_."

He gave the back of Merlin's head an incredulous stare and didn't move. Merlin looked over his shoulder with an expression somewhere between imploring and cross. After a brief staring contest, he grudgingly sheathed his sword.

"See? You can trust us." Merlin took the remaining steps to the creature, now easily within reach to be impaled by its antlers, and lifted his hand slowly. To Arthur's amazement, the peryton moved forward enough to nudge the offered palm. It made a snorting sound and Merlin gave a weak laugh. "Between you and me, you're much more majestic than a unicorn."

The peryton was pleased with the admission. Arthur wasn't sure how he garnered that information, but he simply knew it to be true.

"You can't stay here," Merlin said. "These people need these lands."

It snorted again, much less pleased, then turned and began walking away. He wondered if the solution were really that simple, but then it paused and looked at them, as if it were waiting for something.

Merlin looked at him and shrugged, then began to follow.

It led them to a small outcropping of rock, a shelter not big enough for the peryton to lay under, but it became clear that it wasn't _for_ the peryton, or at least not the full grown one. Sleeping under the rock were two small fawns covered in feathers.

Crouching down, Merlin reached out to stroke the back of one. "So this is why you won't let anyone near here. I wonder what happened to their mother."

The peryton lowered its head to Merlin, who put his other hand on its snout. He gasped, holding the position for a minute longer.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, shifting uneasily.

Merlin stood and nodded at the animal. "We will make sure none disturb you until then."

Arthur still had no idea as to what was going on.

+

Apparently, the peryton planned on leaving as soon as the fawns were able to fly, which Merlin assured him was only a week more at most. They stayed in town to make sure the villagers kept away and he had his men help the people with their work to try to make up for the inconvenience. It was only four days before the peryton and its kin departed. For once, Merlin got the recognition he deserved for his help, even if it hadn't gone over exactly as they told it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a step closer to flat out cuddling. sorry nothing very important happened in this chapter. :o
> 
> oh, and the reason merlin and arthur didnt go deal w the peryton alone in the first place was because uther had sent arthur and a group of knights out. arthur could hardly refuse.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Arthur's attention snapped back to Merlin, who was riding beside him, and he scoffed. "I'm not looking at you like anything. I'm not looking at you _at all_."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Very convincing, my lord. Your powers of subterfuge are unparalleled."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Just tell me what it is already. It's been days. You're going to cave at some point."

Arthur's gaze flickered uncertainly around at the men. It wasn't really a conversation for the whole lot of them. Merlin raised an eyebrow and turned his head to face Leon, who undoubtedly overheard their squabbling.

Leon smiled, looking indulgent. "Go on ahead. I'll make sure the others don't trail too closely."

Merlin grinned back at Leon and then at Arthur, who glared, but ultimately urged his horse into a gallop. When they were out of hearing distance, they slowed again and Merlin stared at him expectantly.

After a drawn-out breath, he finally voiced the thought that had refused to leave him alone. "You said you forgot how nice it is...to sleep with someone. Who did you share your bed with before?"

Merlin's face slackened in surprise and he eventually turned his eyes forward. Arthur felt regret begin take hold at the sudden shift in mood.

"Will," Merlin answered softly.

All the while the question had been nagging him, he had been preparing for some spike of jealousy at its answer, but all he could find now was a sympathetic sadness. "I'm sorry."

"We grew up together. We were hardly apart, even sleeping. He stayed over pretty often, more often than mum realized. That’s what we _thought_ anyway. I’m pretty sure she knew about it. She certainly knew how his life at home could be.”

“Hunith is a good woman.”

“She is. I miss her.”

"Do you miss Ealdor? In general, I mean."

Merlin contemplated his answer. "Sometimes I miss the simplicity of it, I think. And the community. All of the village boys were nuisances, really, but I think I was the worst of it." He smiled at some unseen memory.

"I see nothing has changed then." Arthur shoots him a dry look. "You still hold the title for worst nuisance."

"Oh, har har, very funny." He shakes his head, but there's a small smile playing on his lips. "Just...when you grow up in a small place like that, everyone knows everyone, and you're all more or less forced to get on since we rely on each other so much. Things in the citadel can feel so...impersonal sometimes."

That was something Arthur understood well, especially in his position. Before Merlin, things were so much different for him. He’d had Morgana, but their relationship hadn't exactly been a close friendship. The more they grew up, the further they grew apart. And he'd had Leon, a trusted and kind knight of many years, but he could admit that they hadn't spent much time together either. There were a few other knights he tended to pass the time with, but their camaraderie had been shallow in retrospect to what he developed with Merlin within just a few months. It suddenly occurred to him just how empty his life had been of true human connections.

Arthur wondered at what Merlin's life might have been like growing up, how many friends he had and how close he was with them. Despite living under Cenred's rule as a peasant, he seemed to have had a good childhood, one filled with love.

An idea began to take shape.

"Why don't we go pay a visit?"

Merlin gave him an incredulous look, which was quite rude considering what he was offering. "To _Ealdor_?"

"No, to the Great White Peaks of Merlin Mountain," he deadpanned. " _Yes_ , to Ealdor."

"But why would you want to go there, especially with Winter right around the corner?"

Heaving a sigh, he realized he'd likely have to spell it out. " _You_ want to go there, don't you? To see your mother and reminisce?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be opposed to it." A creased formed on Merlin's brow and Arthur counted his breaths as he waited. It took fifteen, which may have been a record, before Merlin finally understood. "You want to make a trip there for _me_?"

"Never let it be said that I don't allow you time off," he answered gruffly, though he couldn't help but to peek over to check Merlin's reaction.

Merlin was beaming as if he'd just been given a crown instead of some time to visit a peasant village in a hostile king's land.

+

The next morning, as Merlin was chattering excitedly and pulling the covers from his bed, Arthur wished he could take the words back.

Okay, that wasn't strictly true; he _did_ want Merlin to have a chance to see Hunith again and maybe wheedle her into giving up some embarrassing stories of her son, but he only got one night on his bed and he didn't want to give it up again so soon.

It was tempting to be obstinate just because he could be, but goosebumps were beginning to form on his skin and he finally forced himself up.

"There we go. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

He let himself be shuffled up and dressed and manhandled in a way that only happened in the mornings. It was because he was usually too tired to function for at least ten minutes after waking. "Remind me why we're leaving today."

"Because the days are only going to grow shorter and colder the longer we wait. And also because you owe me for saving you from that very awkward conversation with Gwaine and Percy a month ago."

He grimaced as he remembered it and decided that he probably _did_ owe Merlin for that. He hadn't the full context of what they were talking about, but what he _had_ heard of the conversation would scandalize even Morgana. Why Gwaine thought it would be acceptable to bring him into the discussion was far beyond his ability to reason. "I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

Merlin shrugged, unphased. "Peasant ears aren't so sensitive as royal ones."

Arthur smacked him in the side of the head and grinned when he cupped his ear with a surprised yelp. "Come on, Merlin, I thought you said they weren't so sensitive."

With a glare, he dropped his hand and turned on his heel to begin packing Arthur's bag, grumbling while he did so.

"What was that, Merlin? I couldn't hear you."

He grabbed a pair of breaches and stuffed it into the bag rather aggressively before answering. "I _said_ , 'If you were half as funny as you _think_ you are, you'd be twice as funny as you _actually_ are.'"

Arthur considered smacking him in the other ear for good measure, but decided to go eat before the food cooled. All was forgiven after he pretended not to see Merlin steal two sausages from the plate and Merlin pretended that he'd actually succeeded in his theft.

+

When they arrived in Ealdor, it was with the accompaniment of Gwaine (who had insisted on coming to see where Merlin grew up), Percival (who had appointed himself overseer of Gwaine's drinking habits), and Lancelot (who Merlin refused to leave behind after the new additions to their party). Arthur is sure Merlin would have invited Leon as well, if not for the man's duty as a knight.

All in all, it wasn't bad having more company, but it wasn't what Arthur was expecting either, and the quiet entrance into Ealdor ended up becoming one full of raucous laughter and quick-flung jibes.

"Now, now," Gwaine was saying, "we can hardly blame the princess for his graceless tumble into the dirt; I'm sure that stick was a foe to be reckoned with."

Merlin threw his head back as he laughed and Arthur glared daggers at him. Merlin magicked that branch into his way, he _knows_ it. He'd been planning his revenge since it'd happened.

"I hardly think you're one to talk," Percival countered, "since you ran into a tree right after."

Arthur perked up, feeling a bit better about himself. He hadn't seen that particular accident, as he was too busy getting a mouth full of dead foliage.

Merlin snorted. "You can hardly blame him for that. He couldn't see through his tears."

" _Thank you_ , Merlin."

"Was still funny though," Merlin added with a grin. He ducked and laughed when Gwaine threw an apple core at him.

Heads turned as they led their horses through the village and Merlin smiled at several surprised faces. When they reached Hunith's, she was harvesting vegetables from her garden, all of which she promptly dropped when Merlin slid from his horse and threw himself at her. She wrapped her arms around him as tears pricked at her eyes and held onto him for a long minute.

"Surprise!" Merlin said giddily, finally stepping back.

She gave him a look that was part fondness, part scolding, before her eyes finally fell on the rest of the group who had dismounted and were waiting patiently to greet her. She moved to Arthur first and pulled him into a hug, albeit much shorter, and he  felt a surge of warmth as he realized just where Merlin got his big heart from. When she released him, she tried to apologize for her instinctual reaction, but he smiled and assured her it was fine.

Merlin introduced Gwaine, Percival, and Lancelot in turn, all of which she seemed taken by, before showing them where to stable the horses. When they finished with the task, Merlin suggested that, as there were only two rooms for rent at the tavern, they should take turns switching between them and the tents.

"You expect the princess to give up a perfectly good bed?"

"No," Merlin answered, driving a stake into the ground with some effort, "I meant the rest of us could switch off. I hardly expect Arthur to agree to sleep out here."

Arthur crossed his arms and stared down his nose at them. "Good. I'm the not the one who decided to tag along at the last minute."

"Only because you were trying to whisk Merlin away without letting anyone know."

"I was not trying to _whisk him away_."

They only stopped bickering as they crowded into Hunith's small home, which they quickly realized was never meant for so many grown men to preside in at once. Percival and Lancelot at least had the decency to look apologetic for imposing.

"Any friend of Merlin's is welcome in my home," she assured them gently, which earned her a shining smile from her son. "What brings you all this way?"

"Just a visit," Merlin answered, pushing his sleeves up to help her wash the vegetables. Arthur thought of the food they brought with them and knew that it wasn't going to be enough to last them all. There was the tavern, of course, but he got the feeling that Hunith might insist on cooking for them. He wondered if leaving her coin for her troubles would be considered rude and decided that he'd ask Merlin about it later.

"A visit?" Her eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, Arthur finally realized that working me into the ground only makes my service worse and decided to give me a well deserved break." Merlin sent a cheeky smile over his shoulder.

"It isn't possible for your service to get any worse," Arthur drawled, "nor your conduct when in the company of royalty."

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes, proving Arthur's point. "I am ever so sorry, sire."

"Oh, I'm sure you are."

+

They started the afternoon swapping tales with Hunith over Merlin's antics and, occasionally, his heroics, but eventually progressed to new subjects, conversation flowing freely. It was a breath of fresh air to be away from the demands that came with being in Camelot, to just sit and talk about whatever came to mind, no worries that he might be called away in a moment's notice.

Hunith eventually excused herself from the group to begin cooking and Merlin joined her, asking quietly how the crops were faring and if she needed anything. She smiled tenderly, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as she promised him all was well. Arthur was glad that they had a loving relationship, but he couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt as he watched them, wondering what his own mother might have been like.

He was pulled from his music as Gwaine asked who would be sleeping in the tavern room first, suggesting a battle of coin flips.

Lancelot leaned forward onto his knees and gave Gwaine a look. "Don't you think it should be Merlin? He didn't have to offer turns at all."

Percival nodded. "He's right."

Gwaine groaned and lamented sleeping on the ground, though Arthur suspected it was mostly for show. He stopped as a thoughtful expression took over his face. "Do you think he'd share with me if I asked?"

Everyone's eyes flicked to Arthur, waiting, and he unclenched his jaw. "Why are you all looking at me? I'm not Merlin."

"What? Did you call me?" Merlin looked over at them with curious eyes and Lancelot waved his attention away with a smile.

"If anyone knows what goes on in Merlin's head, it'd be you," Gwaine said, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not even sure _Merlin_ knows what's going on in Merlin's head," Lancelot answered, earning a round of chuckles in agreement.

"Plus," Gwaine continued, "I was waiting to see if you had any objections."

Arthur kept his face impassive and willed his hands not to ball into fists. "Why would I have any objections?"

"So you wouldn't care at all if I asked him?"

"No, Gwaine, I would not." It was a lie, but he liked to think he was pretty good at lying from all his practice in the court.

Gwaine's infuriating eyebrow didn't lower and he smirked before turning to grab Merlin's attention.

Merlin turned curious eyes on his friend. "Need something?"

"Not at all. Just wanted to share updates on sleeping arrangements. You'll be sharing with Arthur tonight."

Merlin's eyes darted to Arthur's and they both stared at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, before Arthur's senses finally returned and he sent a kick at Gwaine, who grabbed his foot and started up a round of wrestling. It was only after they almost knocked over a table that they stopped and sent apologetic looks to Hunith, who was watching them with disapproval. Her expression eventually cracked and she smiled warmly back at them, shaking her head and murmuring about boys never growing up.

+

The incident was forgotten about until they filed out of Hunith's later that night and Merlin stopped Arthur outside the door.

"About the...sleeping arrangements," Merlin started awkwardly, then paused, seeming unsure of how he wanted to complete the statement.

"Considering that you've now given Gwaine a head start to the tavern to steal your room, you have three options left."

He stared at Arthur silently, waiting.

"Gods, Merlin, do you actually have a brain inside that head or is it all empty space?" Arthur counted the options out on his fingers as if he were talking to a child. "One: share a tent with Percival. Two: share a tent with Lancelot. Three..?"

"Oh. Are you sure you don't mind?"

Arthur didn't bother answering question, simply turning and walking away. "Go fetch our bags, Merlin."

He heard an affronted huff from behind him and smirked as his manservant stomped off grumbling about how he is perfectly capable of carrying his own bag. That might be perfectly true but, despite whatever Merlin seemed to think, princes didn't have servants so they could stand around and do nothing.

When he made it to the tavern, he was directed up the stairs to the left and busied himself with dressing down for the night. Merlin showed up not long after and fished out his nightshirt before making a mournful sound at the floor.

"I forgot a bedroll."

Arthur climbed into the bed, which was not nearly as comfortable as his own, but was at least better than the ground. "That's hardly surprising. You'd probably forget your own head if it weren't attached to your neck."

Merlin blew out a breath and glanced at the door, undoubtedly contemplating if he wanted to go get it or just curl up next to the fire.

Arthur rolled his eyes and moved over as far as the bed would allow. "Lay down, Merlin."

"Are you sure? There's not much room."

" _Lay down_ , Merlin, before I rescind my offer completely and make you sleep in the stables."

Merlin nodded and pulled off his boots and jacket, leaving the rest of his clothes on as he tried to find a place for his long limbs on the bed. Quickly tiring of the fussing, Arthur grabbed his arm to still him, leaving it there as they eventually drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love these dumb boys  
> knights (and eventual knights) included
> 
> i'm trying very hard to not start writing any other fics until this one is finished. do you guys understand how extremely rare this dedication is? ; ;


	9. Chapter 9

When Arthur woke, it was to find Merlin's nose nearly touching his own, eyes wide and slightly crossed. He blinked a few times, confused and sleep-dazed, as Merlin tugged on his arm. "Can you let go of me now?"

His gaze drifted down to where his arm was wrapped around the back of Merlin's neck and he pulled away slowly, allowing Merlin to create some space between their faces.

"I always thought you might really try to kill me someday, but I didn't think it'd be in your sleep."

"What are you on about?" Arthur grumbled, closing his eyes because looking at Merlin was dangerous.

"I couldn't breathe with your arm round my neck.” His voice was quiet, mindful of how close they were. Despite the words, Arthur heard only exasperated amusement in the tone. “I had to turn over to stop being choked. I should have known your generosity was just a ploy."

The pull of sleep still tempted him and he wondered how early it was. “You've found me out, Merlin; I invited my manservant into bed to kill him while we slept."

Merlin let out a huff of laughter and the air of it ghosted across his face. So very close. All for the best that he still had his eyes closed or else he may have done something recklessly stupid.

"I'm going to go get us some breakfast," Merlin said after a few moments of silence and Arthur mumbled an agreement as he left the bed, taking with him some of the warmth.

Spreading out on the newly available space, Arthur pressed his face into the pillow. Perhaps he could get a few more minutes of sleep after all.

+

He opened his eyes what felt like just ten minutes later to find an empty room and cold food. As he ate, he remembered what he used to be like, how self-important and rude he used to be. It still slipped through sometimes—he wasn't perfect, after all—but he liked to think that he had come a long way. It was mostly Merlin's influence, he knew. Others helped too, but they came after. If Merlin hadn't shown up, he wouldn't be friends with Gwaine, Lancelot, or Percival. Guinevere would still be as distant as ever, only courteous because she had to be. Morgana would probably hate him as she grew into her powers for all that he had done in Uther's name. All of his friendships could be traced back to the moment Merlin entered his life, and the man probably never gave it any thought.

He thought of his relationship with his father, how little it had altered despite how much he had changed, and then pushed the thoughts and food aside, hunger leaving him.

He made his way outside into the crisp, cold air of late autumn and took a deep breath. It soothed him, despite the burn it caused in his lungs. Instead of heading straight to Hunith's, where he assumed Merlin had gone, he decided to take a stroll through the village, envisioning what it might have been like to grow up there.

A small smile turned the corners of his lips as he pictured a young Merlin running down the paths, bothering the villagers with his loud and careless ways, sneaking food from the crops at night, using sorcery for tricks and games and other such trifling things. Hunith tried to keep his magic under wraps, he had said once, but he was sure half the village must have known by the time he left.

Arthur wandered aimlessly and people greeted him as he passed, a few seeming not to know who he was. Were they not around when he had come before? Did they simply forget his face after he left, as they might do with any passing traveler? He could scarcely imagine what it was like to pass through towns like a ghost and wondered if he could be okay with something like that. Fantasies aside, would he really be able to live a happy life out in the country somewhere?

You'd go stir crazy within a fortnight, Merlin's voice rang in his head, and he silently agreed.

A child, not likely to be in more than her fifth year, wandered away from her mother when the woman's back was turned and came to stare up at Arthur with wide eyes. "Are you a lord?"

He smiled and crouched down to talk to her. "I'm a prince."

Impossibly, her eyes widened more and she gave a clumsy curtsy. He returned it with an amused bow, or what might be passable as a bow from his position, just as the woman came scurrying forward with apologies.

"Molle, what have I told you about going up to strangers like that?" she admonished the child, then apologized repeatedly to Arthur for the bother. Looking at her now, he could see how young the woman was, barely more than a girl herself. It was impossible to tell if she was a sister or mother and he thought it would be exceptionally ill-mannered to ask.

Molle stared down at her feet and pouted irritably from the chastising. "He's not a stranger. He's a prince."

"All the more reason not to bother him," the woman said, then apologized to Arthur once more.

He finally righted himself and offered her a smile. "It's quite all right."

"Arthur! There you are!" Their attention diverted to Merlin, who was jogging up to them, cheeks and ears almost as red as his neckerchief.

Arthur gave his manservant a dry look. "Astute observation, Merlin."

Merlin smiled widely at the girl as he came to a stop beside them. "Ems."

She dimpled at him, almost shyly. "Merlin. How's life in the citadel?"

"Oh, you know, not much different than here," he said, which was utter lunacy, but Arthur managed to avoid scoffing.

The girl—Ems? Was that a nickname?—shook her head. "You're just saying that so I don't get jealous."

"Trust me, if you had to spend any time around this guy, all ideas of jealousy would be far from your head."

"Merlin," Arthur warned, but he only ignored his prince to turn his attention to the child.

"You must be Molle," he said, crouching down in the way that Arthur had done previously. "Last time I was here, you were still just a tiny babe. Look how much you've grown. You're going to be taller than Ems soon."

Molle grinned, revealing two bunny-like front teeth. "Only because she's short."

Ems huffed and ruffled Molle's hair. "You're still a far shot off from me, pipsqueak."

"We can't all be tall, Ems. Plus, I like you short. Always gave the allusion I could fit you in my pocket."

"With how I followed you around when we were younger, I think I might have tried if I thought I could fit." When Ems laughed, it was a tinkling thing, but it grated on Arthur's nerves nonetheless.

Merlin stood and redirected his attention to Arthur. "Something bothering you?"

Arthur shook away the scowl that he hadn't even noticed forming. "Other than the size of your ears?"

"Would you leave my ears alone?" Merlin muttered, touching one self-consciously. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. "Anyway, we best get on. It was nice seeing you, Ems. Grow up big and strong, Molle."

Molle nodded happily and Ems' face fell as she said goodbye to them.

As they walked away, Merlin nudged his shoulder. "Are you certain something isn't bothering you?"

"Yes, I am certain, Merlin." He rolled his eyes for good measure. When he tried to turn toward Hunith's home, Merlin tugged his sleeve in the opposite direction.

"This way."

Arthur followed silently as Merlin led them away from the village and into the wood. They didn't go very far before they came to a pond, small and clouded and unremarkable.

"I used to come here a lot when I wanted to be alone," Merlin said, sitting on a large, flat stone and staring down into the murk. The sunlight filtered down through the trees and shadows shifted along his face as the breeze swayed the leaves. When he glanced up with a smile, Arthur's breath stuttered for a moment at the sight. Holding the gaze, he reached his fingers down to the water, eyes lighting up as he did so.

Arthur knew he must have done something to the water, but it felt like a monumental task to look away from him now. He seemed to glow where the sunbeams touched. He was beautiful, and the thought made something splinter in the prince's heart. Perhaps the final wall, the last line of defense against feelings he never had a chance of holding off.

After a moment's too long stare, Arthur forced himself to look at the lake. Gone was the muddiness from before; it reflected the world around it like a looking glass, an almost perfect replica of blue sky and nearly bare trees, and swirls of light danced upon it. He had the utterly absurd inclination to walk in and lower himself to his knees at the center of it all. It had to be freezing, he knew, and the glamour most certainly did nothing for the muddy pond floor. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to join Merlin on the rock and reach for the water.

His fingers rippled the perfect stillness of the pond and the lights twirled around his fingers like something living. He felt silly at the thought. Of course magic was living. Merlin was a testament to that.

"I can't believe I ever thought this was evil."

Without looking, he could feel Merlin's eyes on his face. "I don't think you really ever did."

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, staring intently at the wisps of light that shimmered like jewels. "That day in the forest, when Morgause first released us—" The words stuck in his throat and he withdrew his hand.

"When she released us," Merlin repeated softly, urging him to continue.

"I dreamt that I killed you." The admission tasted like copper on his tongue. Remembering it made him feel sick, shamed. He hadn't had his sword in the dream, only a long dagger, the blade impossibly black. He had brought the tip to Merlin's chest and pressed in slowly and the fool had only continued to look at him with those trusting eyes until the life finally drained from them. He shook his head at the memory. "You didn't even try to defend yourself."

"Arthur."

His jaw ticced, but he didn't look up, didn't want to see what expression was on Merlin's face. It would be hurt or disgusted or, worst of all, the same exact as he'd had in the dream, the same he had every time Arthur needed to make a hard decision.

"Arthur," he said again, laying a tentative hand in Arthur's palm. "There's no blood."

Arthur looked at his upturned palms, at Merlin's fingers pressed into his skin, grounding him, and finally lifted his eyes. The expression on his friend's face was gentle, if a little sad.

"You didn't do it, Arthur. I'm still here." Merlin looked as if he were waiting for something, but Arthur felt too exposed as it was. He wanted to go back to town, away from the pond and the intimacy encompassing them, away from the desire to close his fingers around Merlin's, away from the memories and the splintered wall and all of the feelings he couldn't bring himself to act on.

It was only through his time spent in court and an impressive feat of willpower that he managed to clear his face and cleverly angle his body in a way that caused Merlin's hand to drop. "If you only came here when you wanted to be alone, why have you brought me?"

Merlin snorted, accepting the change in conversation. "Well, you're about as unimportant as the bugs on the tree, so it's like I'm still alone anyway."

Arthur cut a sharp glare at him. "I could toss you into this pond before you even knew what was happening."

"I could toss the pond on you," Merlin shot back, cheek dimpling with a smug grin.

"I'm still the prince, Merlin. You're not allowed to toss ponds at me."

His mouth twitched and he held his hand over the water, a silent threat.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

It only took a moment for Arthur to decide that yes, he would, before pushing him into the shallow, cold pond and taking off into the woods.

He didn't get very far before a large stream of water hit him in the back, almost knocking him onto his face. He grabbed a tree for support, already feeling the wetness soaking into his clothing, and considered his next move.

_Well_ , he thought, _I'm already wet_.

+

They walked through town covered in freezing mud, gathering the attention of everyone they passed. Every breeze felt like ice.

"Couldn't you just magic us clean and dry?" Arthur muttered, clenching his teeth so they wouldn't clack together.

"I d-don't know a sp-pell for that," Merlin answered, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

"You're a useless manservant, Merlin; you could at least be a good sorcerer."

Merlin gave him a murderous look. "Th-this is your f-fault, you know. If y-you hadn't p-pushed m-me in, neither of us would even n-need a spell."

"If I didn't start it, you would have and you know it."

Merlin pouted like an overgrown child, or tried to without much success through the chattering.

When they reached Hunith's house, she froze momentarily at the sight of them before putting a hand on her hip and raising her eyebrows. Merlin waved a hand weakly and Arthur looked the other way. She sighed as they approached.

"You'll catch sick." She sighed again and shook her head. "I don't want your mess through my house and I'm sure neither does Bron want you in his rooms like this. To the barn with yous. I'll send the boys out with the basin and water to get you washed."

They thanked her and continued on to the barn to wait. Merlin immediately landed himself down in some hay, trying to hold onto any warmth that he could and Arthur leaned against a wooden pillar.

Eventually, Percival and Lancelot came in carrying a wash basin filled half with water between them and Arthur was too relieved to complain about how long it had taken. They stopped short when they saw the state of their prince and his servant, but ultimately shook their heads and decided not to ask about it. Gwaine followed soon after with two extra buckets of water and looked like he certainly _ was _ going to ask, but Percival and Lancelot pulled him back outside before he could.

Merlin heated the water quietly as Arthur pulled his clothing off,  glad to see he was less dirty than he'd thought, as most of the mud didn't actually get on his skin. He stepped into the basin and cleaned himself as best as he could, grateful that the barn protected from the windchill, but his wet skin still prickled with gooseflesh. Merlin poured one of the buckets of clean water over him to wash off the last of the dirt and, as soon as Arthur was out, unceremoniously pulled his own clothes off and stepped in. Arthur considered complaining about having to dress himself, but Merlin would probably get him dirty all over again if he tried to help. At the least, the task distracted Arthur from Merlin's body, and particularly the scars on it. He wondered how many times Merlin had gotten injured without him even knowing. Merlin may be a useless servant, but Arthur was clearly an awful friend.

Merlin made quick work of washing and got out as Arthur was tightening his boots. With barely a glance (for his own peace of mind), he tossed Merlin the tunic he'd pulled from his bag, much warmer than any threadbare thing Merlin would have. He could sense the questioning look on the side of his face and rolled his eyes as he began fixing his other boot. He wasn't going to explain the friendly gesture. Merlin could take it or leave it.

He took it, which earned them a keen look from Gwaine when they entered Hunith's. Merlin sat beside him and gave him a look back, which quickly turned into a silent conversation of facial expressions. Arthur moved his attention to Hunith, who was smiling fondly at them. "So, Hunith, I hear Merlin was a little terror as a child."

She turned toward him and her smile turned sharp. “He was more than a  _ little _ terror. Has he ever told you about the time he ran through the village with nothing to cover him but some shrubbery?”

Merlin groaned. “That was  _ not _ my fault.”

“Oh, I've got to hear this,” Gwaine said and Lancelot chuckled as he agreed.

Arthur caught Merlin's eye across their haphazard circle and grinned smugly. Merlin threw a pebble at him in retaliation, but he graciously ignored it.

Everyone leaned forward to listen as Hunith began the retelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may take a little hiatus with this? my mental state has been kinda uhhhh bad lately?? im hoping to go down to my dads at the beginning of november because i always feel better there, but i think my brother's moved in there again, which would NOT make me feel better. :/ 
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, at least. ♥ i think there should be around 14 in total by the time i'm done?


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur glared up at the darkening sky as fat snowflakes began to fall, one landing itself on the tip of his nose and promptly melting. With a gruff sigh, he wiped the droplet and turned his face forward again. The clouds overhead didn't seem too ominous, so a proper storm was unlikely, but they'd still need to stop soon and there was a chance the weather would grow worse in the night. The goal was to make Camelot mid-day tomorrow.

He let his horse slow enough to fall behind Percival and Lancelot, taking care not to make it seem too obvious. He wished to talk to Merlin, but his manservant was currently in a hushed conversation with Gwaine. Finding a spot between the pairs of men where he couldn't eavesdrop, but could still hear their voices, he waited until the two behind him fell silent before calling Merlin's name.

Merlin gave an exasperated look to Gwaine before trotting forward and Arthur tried to keep his expression from going sour. "Yes, Sire?"

He opened his mouth to ask how Merlin was feeling after falling sick at Hunith's, but Merlin jerked his head to the side, yanking his horse to an abrupt stop. Gwaine almost ran into them as he did the same, causing the horse to whinny and grabbing the attention of Lancelot and Percival.

"What is it?" he asked, long past questioning Merlin's insights or hunches even when he hadn't noticed anything himself.

Merlin glanced at Gwaine and then back to the left. "I...thought I _heard_ something."

He understood immediately by Merlin's tone that it hadn't just been a passing deer stepping on some brittle foliage. There was no way for Merlin to tell him what was really going on with Gwaine beside them and Percival circling back to meet them. It just figured that they couldn't make it a single fortnight without some sort of magical troubles.

"Should we investigate?" He tried to convey that he had picked up on Merlin's vocal cue and Percival and Gwaine exchanged a look of disbelief, likely at the novelty of a prince asking his manservant such a question, deferring control in a way that just wasn't _done_. They couldn't possibly understand why, not when they were missing key facts like Merlin being a sorcerer.

Merlin shook his head. "It was probably nothing."

"Be on your guard," he told the others. "In the case that it isn't."

They began to move again as a group, not as spread out as they had been, leaving no chance for Arthur to question him about whatever he'd heard.

It took only a few more minutes before Merlin's head jerked slightly to the left again and he slowed his horse much more carefully than before.

"What is it?" Arthur murmured, having only a few seconds before the others were close enough to hear.

"Not an _it_ ," he whispered back. "A _them_."

"Them who? Are they dangerous?"

"I don't _think_ so."

Percival stopped close and frowned. "Don't think what?"

"Stay here," Merlin said, beginning a slow trot away from them.

Arthur took a moment to stare at him in disbelief. Did he really expect Arthur to listen to a command from him and just let him wander off alone? Arthur spurred his destrier onward, hearing several sets of hoofbeats follow after. Merlin glanced back at them as they neared and heaved something between a huff and a sigh.

It didn't take long before Arthur saw the smoke and straightened, moving one hand to the hilt of his sword. When he looked over, Merlin seemed to be in pain, but not at all on the defensive.

As they finally drew upon the scene, they found a group of hooded figures around a burgeoning fire, heads hung and hands clasped together. Druids, it seemed, though Arthur couldn't fathom Merlin's reaction to them.

Moments passed in silence and Arthur remembered Merlin mentioning the way Druids could speak with only their thoughts. The idea was chilling to him, invasive.

One of the Druids finally lifted his head and inclined it to Merlin, who dismounted and walked to him. Arthur sighed and gave a quiet, "Stay with our horses," before following suit.

"It is a night of heavy hearts, Emrys," the Druid was saying as Arthur stepped up beside his servant.

"What happened?"

"One of our own was executed this morning after trying to heal a woman of what would have been a fatal wound." The Druid's eyes slid over to Arthur and then away, as if the look of him only brought more pain. It cut at him, but was little consequence against the weight of failure he bore at the words. Another innocent dead at his father's orders. He had tried time and again to persuade his father that magic was not inherently evil, but it was never well received. The last time he had brought it up had almost landed him in the dungeons.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Merlin said solemnly.

The Druid shook his head slightly. "It is no fault of yours, Emrys. You cannot be in all places at once, nor can you save the life of everyone you meet, try as you might."

Merlin's gaze shifted suddenly to a child across the fire, surprise clear across his face.

"You and your friends are welcome to camp here tonight, should you wish to." There was something knowing in the man's gaze now and Merlin turned to Arthur in askance.

He gave a jerky nod. "I'll go let them know."

+

The Druids made room for them around the fire and offered them food, a kindness that Arthur didn't deserve as his father was the reason they grieved. He accepted it gratefully and was relieved at Percival and Gwaine's lack of questions regarding the entire situation. They would accost him sometime tomorrow, he was sure, but the delay was appreciated nonetheless.

The child, as it turned out, was the boy they'd smuggled out of Camelot what seemed like ages ago, though he knew it had not been. Mordred and Merlin would sometimes look at each other as they ate and Arthur assumed they were catching up silently.

Before the kid finally retired for the night, he offered Arthur a soft thank you and Merlin smiled as he walked off.

"I wish Morgana had come with us. She would have loved to see him and I know he'd like to see her as well."

"Can a meeting not be arranged between them?"

Merlin shook his head sadly. "They're moving their encampment tomorrow, seeking somewhere more hospitable for the winter."

The night pressed on somberly and mostly quietly until a woman a few feet from them began to sing, voice raspy with age.

" _I watched the flames with weary eyes._  
_I did not have the strength to cry._  
_The smoke, it rose up into the sky,_  
_but the night still staggered on._ "

It was a familiar tune, one he had not bothered to memorize the words to, but knew all the same. He was surprised to hear it being sung at a Druid encampment. A few voices joined the woman as she began the second verse.

" _My feet did carry me back home,_  
_where my knees sank down to meet the stone._  
_I'd never felt any more alone,_  
_but the night still staggered on._ "

Arthur closed his eyes against the sorrow he heard in their voices and yet more joined for the third verse.

" _And when I slept, you haunted me_  
_with promises you could not keep._  
_Into my soul did the anguish creep,_  
_but the night still staggered on._

 _I prayed my will would make it so,_  
_to raise from ashes something whole._  
_I prayed and plead till my voice did go,_  
_but the night still staggered on._ "

By the end of the fourth verse, the entire circle of Druids were singing, a morose choir in the middle of the forest. It struck him that this was _their_ song, a elegy dedicated to those burned at the stake. In all of his times hearing it, he had never known. Its history had been stripped away, presented to him as just another melancholy dirge, and his heart ached at the thought. To him, it had meant so little, but to the people around him now, it meant so much, a covert lament as they could not even mourn without fear for their own lives.

" _And though I wished the world away,_  
_the sun could not be kept at bay._  
_Her light shined down on me every day,_  
_but the night still staggered on._  
_And the night still staggers on._ "

He kept his eyes closed for a long time, reflecting upon himself and the lives lost not just to his father, but to him. The guilt was a palpable thing, an acrid taste in his mouth, a lump in his throat, a knot in his stomach.

"Arthur."

He blinked his eyes open to see Merlin watching him with those kind eyes, firelight flickering against his cheek. The snow had stopped falling and almost everyone else had retired for the night. He was surprised that he had been so lost in his thoughts as not to notice even Percival, who sat beside him, leaving.

"You should get some rest," Merlin said quietly.

He opened his mouth to reply, but found no words. There was so much he wished to say and so little he thought he could bear being spoken aloud.

Merlin looked sad, but understanding. Always so understanding when Arthur felt vulnerable. "You should get some rest," he repeated.

Arthur nodded and stood, relieved when Merlin followed him to the tent. He had no desire to be alone that night.

+

When the morning came, his mood was only fractionally better than before he had fallen asleep. He thanked the Druids for their hospitality and offered his sincerest apology to what seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Your past need not define you, young prince, and it cannot be changed. The path you choose moving forward is of the utmost importance. We believe in the future of peace you are destined to bring about."

Arthur nodded solemnly, thanked him, and they took their leave, though not before Mordred wrapped his small arms around Merlin in a quick but tight hug.

The last hours to Camelot were mostly silent, though Gwaine and Merlin attempted to lift the mood a few times to little avail.

As they entered the courtyard, Morgana and Guinevere stood waiting on the steps, hands clasped together. The look about them told Arthur that they were not in any spirits higher than he.

Leaving the horses to the stableboys, he, Merlin, and Lancelot joined the girls while Gwaine and Percival went their separate way.

"There's something we must discuss," Morgana said as they approached, looking much worse for wear than she had been when they'd left.

"There was another execution," Arthur hazarded her news, assuming that to be the reason for her upset.

"There was." Her mouth tightened and she glanced at Guinevere, who gave her an encouraging smile. "But it's not what I was referring to. This isn't a discussion to have here. Lancelot, if you would stay with Guinevere, please."

Lancelot bowed his head and took Guinevere's hand as the girls separated, leaving Merlin and Arthur to follow Morgana into the castle. A few guards watched wearily as they passed by and Arthur's concern grew.

Once inside her chambers, Morgana's rigid posture fell and she turned to them with watery eyes.

"What is it, Morgana?" He asked, stepping forward to place a hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

"Morgause came to me on the night you departed." She sniffed and looked down to the bracelet on her wrist as he runs her fingers over it. "She shared with me information she believed I had the right to know."

Arthur shared a look with Merlin, who seemed just as confused as he was.

"She told me she was my half-sister."

He stared at her as the information settled. It was a shocking revelation for Morgana, no doubt, but clearly not cause for the distress she was in. "That's not all she told you."

Morgana's lip trembled as she shook her head. "She told me who my father is, my _real_ father." Her expression hardened with anger and disgust. "It's _Uther_. _Uther_ is my father, Arthur."

His hand slipped from her arm and he took a step back, balking at the idea. Morgana was his half-sister as well, then. Uther had taken her in as a ward, pretended it was an act of kindness, and she was his bastard daughter the entire time. He did not give her even the respect of telling her the truth, let alone naming her his child publicly. Each day that passed tore more and more at the idealized notion of Uther he'd built up through his childhood.

"Is she sure?" Merlin asked, nearly startling Arthur, who had almost forgotten he was there.

"I confronted him about it. He broke quickly, pleading with me to _understand_." She spat the last word like a curse. "All my life, he lied to me, would have taken the lie with him to the grave. I _hate_ him. I hate him, and yet I am cursed to bear him, cursed to know that I came from him."

Tears finally began to flow over her cheeks and Merlin moved forward to pull her into his arms. He pet her hair soothingly as Guinevere often did when she was upset.

"I haven't spoken to him since," she said weepingly into his shoulder. "I cannot even stand to look at him. It was his war on magic that forced Morgause to be smuggled away as just a babe. It is his fault that I never knew my own sister, that I fear for my own life every day, for _your_ life, Merlin."

Merlin hushed her gently until she quieted and pulled away from him. Arthur felt useless standing beside them, having no words of comfort to offer.

She pulled herself straight and Arthur felt some small awe at the strength of her character, though it was far from the first time. "She said that there was something she also needed to share with you, Arthur."

His brow creased. After the news she passed to Morgana, he doubted that whatever else Morgause had to say would not be cause for joyous celebration. "Did she tell you where I could meet her?"

"She said she would come to you."

Arthur nodded, as there was nothing else he _could_ do. The sun still shone happily in the sky and yet he felt a bone-deep exhaustion. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Morgana. I'm sorry for all you've suffered at the expense of my- _our_ father. Will you be okay on your own?"

She gave him a smile, sympathetic even in the face of her own grief and anger. "I've had nearly a fortnight with the information. I'll be all right."

He hesitated and then gave her a small hug and another whispered apology before turning, not needing to tell Merlin to follow.

In his chambers, he grabbed himself some fresh clothes, not feeling up to washing just yet, and dressed himself. Merlin didn't bother with a joke about how shocking the sight was and Arthur almost wished he had. Some semblance of normalcy might be beneficial, he thought. He grabbed an extra tunic and pair of trousers and gave them to Merlin, who stared at them with no small amount of confusion. It was almost enough to make him laugh.

"Put them on, you idiot. I'll not have you making my room reek."

"Oh. Thanks?" Merlin shuffled awkwardly behind the dressing screen to put the clothes on.

"I suppose you have some opinion on this," he said, falling heavily into his chair.

" _This_?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and waited until Merlin had joined him before clarifying. "This situation with Morgana and my father."

"I can't begin to speak for Uther's motives and I certainly won't defend them, but if he has any saving grace, it's the love he has for you and Morgana. She claims to hate him, but I only think that's half true. She has a soft heart, and I imagine some piece of her, no matter how small, still cares for him. This isn't a hurt that will heal quickly."

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I know. If I'm feeling angry and betrayed, I can only guess at what it feels like to her. I understand her not wanting to see him. How am I supposed to sit with him, to dine at his table, with all of the lies and hatred he carries with him?"

Merlin whispered a spell and the fire jumped to life next to them. Arthur hadn't even noticed how cold it was.

"Thank you."

Taking a seat, Merlin held his hands out to the flames, a contemplative look on his face. "Perhaps you can't," he finally answered. "Whatever you choose, I'm sure Morgana will respect the decision, and you know you'll always have my loyalty, Arthur."

" _Thank you_ , Merlin," he said again. "Truly."

Merlin smiled at him and returned his eyes to the flames. They sat there for a long time, letting it warm their skin, though there was a chilled feeling in his stomach that even the fire could not heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my beautiful readers!!!! i'm so sorry this took such a long time to come out. life has been rough and my attention span is abysmal. also, i lost my original draft of this chapter and then rewrote it twice more. x_x but i'm pretty happy with this, even though it's not happy in and of itself, an abrupt change of mood since the last chapter.  
> i'm sorry, lovelies. i hope you enjoyed it though. let me know. ♥


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring alcohol and an unexpected guest.

“Why can’t Morgause just come see us at the castle like she did with Morgana?” Arthur asked as the last of his armor was removed. He pulled his clothes off quickly and sunk down into his bath, letting out an appreciative groan. “I’m growing tired of skulking around in the woods.”

“To be fair, there is the imminent threat of beheading if Uther overhears any mention of magic.” Merlin’s tone was pointed and it did it’s job cutting Arthur’s self-importance down.

“I don’t think my father is in much of a state to behead anything,” Arthur grumbled. Their relationship had been strained since the night he returned from Ealdor and Morgana simply refused to talk or dine with him at all. On the one hand, Arthur worried about the depressed state his father was falling into. On the other, he thought it served him a bit right to suffer until Morgana came back around. _When_ , he thought forcefully, not _if_. Arthur could not deal with many more dinners with his father as such and Morgana absent.

“We should do something fun tonight.”

He craned his head to look back as his manservant plopped onto his bed without grace or hesitation. He gave a disapproving look. “Fun?”

“Yes, fun. I know it’s not your area of expertise, but I’m sure you must have heard of it at some point.” Merlin grinned at him and he sent a small splash of water out of the tub, only managing to wet the bottom of Merlin’s trousers.

“What do you propose?”

“I don’t know. Was kind of hoping you’d have an idea. Morgana could really use some cheering up.” He paused. “What cheers _you_ up?”

Arthur turned his head back to the bath and avoided snorting. There were plenty of things that could make him smile--his friends and knights, for one--but it was usually Merlin, if he was being honest with himself. He was getting better at being honest with himself lately, but that didn’t mean he was about to share all these self-realizations with anyone else. “Seeing you make an idiot of yourself is usually quite entertaining.”

“I live to please,” Merlin said dryly. “Maybe I should ask Gwaine. He always seems to be having a good time.”

“You are not dragging me out into the snow so we can visit a _tavern_.” He didn’t turn back around, but he hoped his tone was conveying his distaste well enough.

Merlin hummed, as if given an idea, and Arthur sank lower into the water. He was going to wring all the pleasure from it that he could before Merlin got on the scent of whatever bad idea was brewing in his head.

+

The bad idea turned out to be a series of drinking games that quickly degenerated into the lot of them ending up piss-faced. By the time Arthur was feeling dizzy with drink, Guinevere was passed out on the floor, Lancelot and Morgana were too sloshed to stand, and Merlin looked to be trying to communicate with a broom. Gwaine seemed to have the most control of his faculties, but Percival--the most sober of them all--was still attempting to get him to put down his bottle and go back to his room before they all ended up spending the night in Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur downed the rest of the drink in his hand before standing and grabbing the linens and pillows from his bed. He distributed them amongst Morgana, Lancelot, and Guinevere, leaving nothing for himself or Merlin. In a moment of inspiratiob, he stumbled his way to his wardrobe, unskillfully pulling out a heap of clothing and carrying it to where Merlin sat. He only meant to throw them on Merlin to keep the idiot warm, but ended up lying down next to him as well. Merlin blinked slowly before abandoning the broom and curling up against Arthur’s chest. It was nice, so he said so, and he wrapped an arm around his manservant, trying to remember why that was a bad idea.

They were still like that when Percival returned and gave them a smile before scooping Guinevere and then Morgana up and placing them on the bed. If Arthur had tried that, he would’ve fallen and given them head injuries.

Percival put the candles out before he left, leaving the room bathed in the dim light of the fire.

Percival’s a good friend.

Merlin hummed an affirmative sound and Arthur frowned down at his head. Had he said that aloud or did Merlin read his mind? Could you do that with magic?

“Shut up, Arthur,” came Morgana’s slurred voice from above him and he decided he must be talking aloud after all.

He closed his eyes and pulled Merlin close, who resituated so his face was against Arthur’s neck. He bit it playfully and Arthur felt some semblance of arousal attempting to fight through all of the alcohol he imbibed. He extended his head back and was pleased when Merlin took the invitation and scraped his teeth along Arthur’s skin again.

A shiver went down Arthur’s spine and he tried to hold onto the feeling, but his eyelids felt heavier and heavier with each second that passed. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately and suddenly his makeshift, lumpy bed on the floor seemed like a great place to catch up on missed hours of rest.

Spur of the moment, he moved his hand to Merlin’s chin and tipped it up, claiming his mouth in a kiss. His last thought that night was that he wanted to keep kissing Merlin forever.

+

Morning came with a pounding behind his eyes and a crick in his back. _Merlin and his stupid ideas_ , he thought, peeling his eyes open slowly and thanking whoever had the foresight to close the curtains.

He was on his back, staring up at the stone ceiling, and someone was clinging to his side, cutting off the flow of blood to his left arm. It was Merlin, because of course it was. Just as he opened his mouth to tell his manservant off for the inevitable prickliness his arm would have to undergo and demand he get a potion from Gaius for his pains, he _remembered_.

His stomach roiled as the sleep fog dissipated and left him with his drunken memories. He had _kissed_ Merlin. It was sloppy and clumsy and new and _awful_ , because what if Merlin remembered too? He dragged his arm out from under his servant and managed to get to the basin to splash his face with water. It did nothing for the throbbing in his head, but it woke him up a bit more, which was a step in the right direction.

This is exactly why he didn’t drink to excess. The last time he’d been in his cups, he ended up mostly-naked in the kitchens, scandalizing cook when she arrived the next morning. It was years ago, but he’ll never forget the shade of puce his father’s face turned when he found out. He splashed more water on himself and then, in desperate need for normalcy, took a cup of it and threw it on Merlin’s face.

Merlin sputtered awake, bolting upright and displacing the clothes he’d pulled overtop of himself in the night. “Wha-- What’s going on?”

Arthur waited for him to get his bearings before raising an imperious eyebrow. “Still having _fun_ , Merlin?”

He groaned and flung himself back down, covering his face with his arms. “You are an evil, evil man.”

“Go get us some potions. It feels like my head is going to explode.” He looked over at Lancelot, who was in the same slumped position on the chair as he’d been the night before. His neck hung down in a way that spelled imminent pain upon waking up. “Maybe two for him.”

Merlin groaned again and slowly pushed himself off the floor. He gave a curious look to the clothes pile, but said nothing, and was soon shuffling out the door.

While Arthur was tempted to get ready by himself and flee for duties the second Merlin returned, he reminded himself that that would seem suspicious. He could be normal.

“Arthur?”

He spun around in surprise, wild eyes meeting Guinevere’s wide ones. “Yes?”

She looked as if she was trying to bury herself in the linens and Morgana and talk to him at the same time. He imagined she hadn’t planned to fall asleep in the prince’s chambers, even if they were more or less friends lately. It may have been awkward, if his mind weren’t already preoccupied.

“Are you okay?” Her brow was pinched and her general expression radiated concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been standing there for two minutes looking very lost.”

Arthur cleared his throat and stood straighter. “I’m fine.”

After a stilted silence, she finally said, “I’m sorry for my behavior last night,” and he wondered if he wasn’t the only one who made bad decisions when drunk.

“It’s fine, Guinevere.” He waved away whatever it was that was bothering her and took a seat.

“I don’t really drink. I should have paced myself. I feel very silly about it now.”

He set his head on the table and wished she would stop talking because then it was expected that he should reply and replying made the throbbing worse.

“I don’t know,” Morgana said through a yawn as she sat up, “the part where you danced on top of the table was fun.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and Guinevere gasped with outright scandal. “I didn’t!”

Morgana only kept a straight face for a second before she started laughing and Guinevere smacked her lightly on the arm.

“Don’t _do_ that to me. I would have died of embarrassment.”

The laughter petered off as Morgana held her head in her hands. “Ow. Laughing was a bad idea.”

“What did I miss?” Merlin asked, standing in the doorway with a nondescript, brown sack.

“Gwen dancing on the table,” Lancelot answered, and when had he even woken up?

Guinevere buried her face in Morgana’s shoulder, but Merlin just smiled and started passing out the potions from the sack. “Sorry to have missed it, I guess.”

“When are we meant to meet Morgause?” Arthur asked before taking the offered potion and drinking it in one swallow.

“Any time today, I suppose. She didn’t give a time.”

Arthur heaved a sigh. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Morgana, on the other hand, leaned forward with interest. “Did she say what for?”

“Does she ever?”

In the ensuing silence, Guinevere stood with grace fit for a queen and smoothed down her clothes. “Perhaps we should leave Arthur to get ready then. Is the corridor clear, Merlin?”

“It was when I came in.”

Lancelot nodded and stood and Morgana allowed herself to be roused from the bed until there was only Arthur and Merlin left.

“We’ll leave after breakfast.”

Merlin rubbed an eye and stared at him dispassionately. “I’ll have to go get that breakfast then.”

“Unless my life has been an elaborate lie and _I’m_ the prince’s manservant.”

Merlin turned away with a muttered, “Smart arse,” and Arthur threatened him with cleaning out the stables.

+

They didn’t make it to see Morgause. He was barely out of the corridor before his father stopped him.

“Arthur.”

“Father.”

A short, stiff silence fell over the two until Merlin cleared his throat lightly and pulled Uther’s attention. He eyed the bags that Merlin was carrying with some interest. “I’m afraid that whatever you have planned must be delayed.”

“Has something happened?”

“The lady Anestra arrived a short time ago. She is with Gaius, as her health was suffering from her long travel in this weather. She appears to have come alone.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he sent a quick glance to Merlin. “Alone? That seems...unlikely”

“I’m sending men to scout the immediate area. I want you to see what information you can gain from her.”

“Yes, Father.” He turned to Merlin and motioned with his head the way they came. “Meet me there after you’ve returned my things to my chambers.”

Merlin nodded and turned heel as Uther stepped aside for Arthur to pass. His thoughts turned the situation around in his head. The journey from her kingdom would have been perilous for more than one reason. The cold was the most pressing, but there was also the risk of bandits, and that’s assuming she was well travelled enough not to get lost, especially with the land snowed over.

When he arrived, the lady was asleep on the bed and Gaius hovered nearby, seemingly checking for afflictions or whatever it was that Gaius did. He looked up as the door was pushed open and then back to Anestra.

“It’s the strangest thing. Aside from her exhaustion, nothing appears to be ailing her.”

“Strange indeed,” Arthur said, eyes narrowing.

Gaius understood the tone and shuffled over to him, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I don’t believe she could have made this journey alone and on horseback for her to arrive in such a state.”

“It’s definitely suspicious, but what kind of game could she be playing at? If it’s even the lady Anestra at all.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait until she wakes. I must go see to Sir Turin’s knee injury, if you would watch over her.”

His schedule was free for the day, what with his plans on going to Morgause, so he simply nodded and took a seat.

The lady was different than he remembered her from childhood, hair darker, cheeks thinner. He was so focused on examining her features that he didn’t immediately notice Merlin enter the room.

“Where’s Gaius?”

“Said he had to see to Sir Turin. Apparently, the lady Anestra is suffering from nothing but exhaustion.” He raised his eyebrows after the statement and Merlin frowned and took a seat next to him.

“Just a waiting game, then? What if she doesn’t wake up any time soon?”

“It’s a good thing you live here, Merlin,” he answered sardonically.

They lapsed into silence, which was fine by Arthur usually, but with nothing to focus on, his mind drifted back to the previous night, to the thought of Merlin’s teeth on his neck. It was ridiculous, really, because it was Merlin. Merlin with his goofy smiles and clumsy feet and wide eyes. Merlin could make his chest tight and warm, but that was certainly _not_ the part of him reacting to the memory.

His eyes unfocused on the room in front of him as his imagination went further. What if they hadn’t stopped after a kiss? What if Arthur hadn’t fallen asleep? His mind provided ample suggestions and imagined-Merlin had just slid a hand into his trousers when a sound broke his concentration.

He glanced at Merlin, real and solid and expression full of concern, and realized the sound was his name being said.

“I called you three times. Are you okay? Have you come down with a fever?” Merlin placed a hand on his forehead to check and he pulled away, feeling heat creeping up his neck and across his cheeks.

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Your head felt pretty hot.”

“Drop it, Merlin.”

Merlin sat back with a huff and crossed his arms. “Fine. See if I care when you get deathly ill.”

“I am not deathly ill. Don’t be such a mother hen.”

“Sure, sure. You’re fine now, but when unseemly boils begin to form on your skin and you lose sight in your eyes, I don’t want to hear you asking me _or_ Gaius for help.”

Arthur didn’t bother trying to reign in his horrified expression. “Just what kind of sickness do you think I have?”

“Whichever one makes people act like clotpoles.”

The answer surprised a laugh out of him and he shoved Merlin, who grinned and pushed back with his shoulder.

“I think it’s caused by a parasite called Merlin.”

“Hey now, I still bring you your meals. You don’t know all the things that could happen to your food between the kitchens and your chambers.”

Arthur lifted a finger and jabbed it at Merlin’s chest. “My sausage is no joking matter.”

He realized his mistake as soon as the words were out and Merlin guffawed. Something on his face must have been particularly amusing, because the initial bark of laughter turned into a fit, his manservant collapsed on himself with tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t realize it was such a sensitive subject for you, sire.”

He was saved from any further mortification as he noticed Anestra blinking her eyes open, likely woken by Merlin’s uproar. She looked a bit scared and quietly asked for Gaius.

Merlin sobered quickly and stood. “I’ll go get him.”

Anestra mumbled something as Merlin left, but Arthur couldn’t hear what. He leaned in to ask and Anestra reached a hand out, clasping it around his wrist. A strange feeling coursed through him, but it was nice. So very nice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo. things are like..... really bad irl right now and this chapter originally was going to be angst, but i needed something nice, yknow? we deserve nice things.  
> the end is a lil suspicious but hey, its merlin. theres always hinky magic being aimed at arthur. 0:-)  
> warmest regards to you, my sweet readers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Merlin is very close_ was Arthur’s first thought, followed shortly after by _he’s kissed me._

He blinked, dumbfounded, and realized that he wasn’t sure how he had ended up here or where _here_ even was. He glanced around. His chambers. His chambers in which Merlin had almost certainly just kissed him and Anestra was standing nearby like a guilty spectator. She appeared healthier than when he’d last seen her. Which was...when? His head ached and he pressed a hand to it.

“Perhaps you should sit, sire.”

Arthur’s eyes drew back to his servant, who seemed particularly concerned. His servant who had just been kissing him. He felt like his thoughts were stuck in a loop. Perhaps he _should_ sit down.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I don’t understand.”

Merlin looked to Anestra and inclined his head, encouraging her to speak. Her eyes were large and watery and she wrung her hands in front of her.

“I cast an enchantment on you,” she said, head ducked in shame. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I was just scared. My father was trying to marry me to an awful man and I just couldn’t stand the thought. It’s no excuse, of course. I’ll—”

He held a hand up to stop her, attempting to process the information. _Enchanted_. He felt sparks of indignation and betrayal at the thought. He had trusted her so easily and she had immediately taken advantage of him. Regret was pouring off her in waves, but that change the fact that she had still done it to begin with.

“Enchanted how?” he asked, though he was already pretty certain as to the answer.

“It was a love enchantment. It was to...make you fall in love with me.”

He gave her a sharp look. “You fled your father for fear of being forced into a marriage against your will yet thought it would be all right to inflict the same fate on another?”

Her lip wobbled and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear away her tears. “It was terrible of me, I know. I was desperate, and you were always so kind to me when we were young.” She wiped at her face quickly as a tear escaped down her cheek.

“People make bad decisions when they’re afraid,” Merlin said gently. “She understands she was wrong and she gave me the information I needed to break the spell.”

Arthur stared at her for a moment longer. He too would most likely be subject to an unwanted marriage, but it must be even worse for a woman. He nodded stiffly. “You may leave.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and made for the door with haste.

“Do you think there’s something we could do for her?” Merlin asked softly after she was gone.

“Your prince was just enchanted and you’re worried about the _enchanter_. How typical of you, Merlin.”

“Aren’t you? Worried, I mean.”

He sighed and rubbed his chin. There was stubble growing in that needed shaving. “I am _sympathetic_ to her plight but it is one those of noble birth must bear.”

Merlin looked further disheartened by the statement. “All people should be free to choose who they marry.”

“I agree,” he replied easily, “but we don’t live in a world where everything is as it _should be_. We live in a world where things simply _are_.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to add to that and they fell into silence. His head still throbbed lightly and he was beginning to wonder if Merlin had really kissed him at all. He assumed it must have been to break the enchantment. A kiss by someone other than the caster? To ask about it would only serve to make things awkward.

In any case, he was glad Merlin decided to do it himself instead of setting him up with a random maid, though that was probably because there was no good way to explain the situation to an outsider without telling them of the spell cast; it would have turned even messier had such news been spread. He only wished he had been more _present_ for it. What a missed opportunity.

“How long was I under enchantment?” It couldn’t have been very long, he assumed.

“Just a few days.”

“And what did I miss in that time?”

“Your meeting with Morgause, which she is very unhappy about. Your declaration to your father to marry Anestra. Gwaine tripping over his own foot, which was very funny, I think you’d have enjoy—”

“Merlin.”

Merlin stopped rambling and forced a smile. “Hm?”

“What was this about a declaration?”

“You may have...burst into your father’s chambers to declare your undying love for Anestra and your plans to wed her. Fortunately, I was close behind to drag you out and claim you’d just had too much to drink. I think he’s still too preoccupied with Morgana to care much about you making a fool of yourself while in your cups.”

Arthur groaned. “And the meeting with Morgause? Did she give you another time to meet?”

“She said to come as soon as you woke.”

His stomach rumbled loudly and he was suddenly aware of how hungry he was. Gods, was he so busy mooning over Anestra that he forgot to eat?

“I’ll go fetch some food,” Merlin offered. “We won’t be getting to her today anyway, so what’s a little while longer of a delay?”

+

When they arrived to the location they were asked to, it was unsurprisingly empty. After all, how could Morgause know when he would show up? They meandered around the ruined building just to make sure, but she was nowhere in sight. Readying himself for a wait, he cleared the snow off of one of the steps and took a seat. Merlin joined him, promptly complaining about how cold the stone was.

Time crept along slowly, until Arthur grew bored enough to ask Merlin to explain how Gwaine tripped over himself. (Merlin was proven right—he _had_ found it quite funny.)

“I can’t feel my backside anymore,” Merlin complained after another hour with no sign of the sorceress. “Perhaps she forgot. We should go back.”

“I told her I’d meet her and I didn’t show. She’s waited days; I can at least wait a few hours.” Even as he said it, he rubbed his hands together for any warmth he could get and hoped she would be along soon.

He couldn’t have said how long they had spent there in total, nor how many complaints from Merlin he had to bear, before she appeared. He got to his feet immediately to greet her. “Lady Morgause.”

“Such a polite greeting from the one who kept me waiting.”

“I apologize. I was enchanted.”

Her steps paused as she considered his words. “I see. I suppose I can forgive you the transgression then.” She drew closer and looked into his eyes. “You are a man of your word, Arthur Pendragon. I believe you will make a far better king than your father.”

Considering her low opinions of Uther, he wasn’t sure how much of a compliment that really was. Once, he might have been offended at the implication that his father was not a good ruler, but the past year had been eye-opening as to his father’s many faults.

“I have decided that I shall grant you one wish, as a token of good faith. Tell me what it is that your heart most desires?”

The answer was upon him in an instant. “My mother. Tell me everything you know about her.”

“Perhaps you would like to see her?”

His heart jumped at the possibility. “I want that more than anything.”

“As you wish.” She turned and led them through the abandoned building, graceful even as she skirted the snow-covered debris, as if she had done it a thousand times. Arthur only had to kick one stone accidentally before learning to follower her path exactly.

She brought them to a strange area, pillars huddled together closely and the roof clear gone, yet the ground empty of snow.

“Is this a good idea?” Merlin asked, watching her light the candles by hand, one by one.

“If you had the chance to see your father,” Arthur answered, “wouldn’t you take it?”

“It is time.” Morgause held out her hand for him, guiding him to the altar. “Close your eyes.”

He did so without hesitation, trying to calm his pulse as she whispered the spell next to him. A gust blew through the chamber and he could _feel_ the change around him. As the wind died down, a whisper was carried through the air. “Arthur.”

He did not recognize the sound of his mother’s voice, but it drew a gasp from him all the same. He opened his eyes.

“Arthur,” she said again, stronger now.

“Mother.” He could hardly get his feet to move, but it mattered little as she closed the space between them, bringing him into a hug. He buried his face in her shoulder.

“When I last held you, you were a tiny baby.” She pulled back to look at him. “I remember your eyes. You were staring up at me. Those few seconds I held you were the most precious of my life.”

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. All his life, this was the single thing he wanted most. She placed a hand against his cheek and he felt as if his knees might give out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. It was his fault she was gone. He had cut her life so short.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It was my birth that caused you to die.”

“No, you are not to blame.” Her eyes were sincere; he could tell she believed it. His chest ached, a lifetime of guilt like a cinch around his heart.

“I cannot bear the thought you died because of me.”

She gathered him back in her arms. “Do not think that. It is your father who should carry the guilt for what happened.”

The words brought him up short. How could it have been his father’s fault? “What do you mean?”

“It is not important. What matters is that you lived.”

Now that the seed had been planted, it would not be stopped from taking root. He pulled away from the embrace. “Why should my father feel guilty?”

“It is better left in the past,” she impressed, but he could not leave it as such.

“You cannot leave me with more questions.”

She lifted her dampened eyes, reluctant to explain.

“Please.”

She turned her head before she began to speak, as if she could not look at him while doing so. “Your father… He was desperate for an heir. Without a son, the Pendragon dynasty would come to an end.” She shook her head, overwhelmed with emotion or memories or both. “But I could not conceive.”

A sinking feeling began to settle over him. “Then how was I born?”

She hesitated.

“Tell me.”

Finally, she met his gaze. “Your father betrayed me. He went to the sorceress Nimueh and asked for help in conceiving a child. You were born of magic.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true.” It couldn’t be true. His father had spent decades trying to purge the world of magic. He would have never.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. Your father deceived you as he has deceived me. To create life, a life must be taken. Your father knew that.”

“No.” Even Uther could not do something so terrible.

“He sacrificed my life so the Pendragon dynasty could continue. It makes you _no less_ my son, nor me _any less_ proud of you. Now I see you, I would have given my life willingly.”

He closed his eyes, unable to reconcile the information with what he knew.

“Do not let this knowledge change you.”

He shook his head again. It was too much. He could not believe it. No, he simply did not _want_ to believe it. Wind gusted through the chamber again and when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

“No!” He reached an arm out to where she had been, as if he could call her forth again. “Bring her back!”

“I cannot,” Morgause said. “Once the doorway is closed, it is closed forever. I am truly sorry that you learned of your mother’s fate in this way. I can only imagine how it must feel to discover your father is the one responsible for her death. It is an...unforgivable betrayal.”

He hardly registered her hand upon his arm until she dropped it and walked away.

“Are you all right?” Merlin asked, but how could he be? Rage was building in his gut, radiating out to his limbs. “Arthur?”

“Fetch the horses. We’re returning to Camelot.”

+

He was inconsolable on the travel back, shaking off all of Merlin’s attempts to talk even when they had to stop to camp for the night.

It was despicable. His father had _murder_ _ed_ countless innocents for a crime he himself was guilty of. Arthur had thought, with time, he could make his father see the error of his ways, show him that those with magic were no more evil than those with a sword. But his father would never see. His father was a lying hypocrite. The blood on Uther’s hands would never be cleaned.

And his mother! His own mother was dead by Uther’s hands. Perhaps he had not personally strangled the life from her, but he was responsible all the same. The weight Arthur had carried since he was a boy was not his own. More, the weights which were truly his came from listening to Uther, following in his footsteps for as long as he did. His father had used him like an executioner all that time. Why did Uther deserve to live when so many others did not? When _his mother_ did not?

He dismounted his horse and retrieved his sword. The answer was clear: Uther did not.

“What are you going to do?” Merlin called after him, but it would be clear soon enough.

He climbed the steps and entered the castle with sword drawn and swiftly put it in the scabbard at his side. “Where is my father?”

The guard looked mildly panicked, but set him in the right direction. He was there in minutes, catching his father and Leon by surprise.

“Arthur. Where have you been? Not attempting to elope with the lady Anestra, I hope.”

There was a slight amusement in Uther’s tone that he had no stomach for. His breath came heavily.

“Arthur,” Uther repeated when he was met with no answer, much more serious.

“I know...what you did to my mother.” The words were sour in his mouth.

“Leave us,” Uther commanded, and Leon obeyed at once. “No one is to enter.”

When the door was shut again, Uther raised his palms up, placating. “What are you talking about?”

Arthur is nearly shaking with the anger and hurt stored inside him and has no time for his father to play the fool. “You were _so desperate_ for an heir, you were prepared to use magic.”

“Who told you this? They are lying to you.”

“My mother is dead because of your selfishness and arrogance. Her blood is on your hands.”

“No, that’s not true. Whoever would have you believe that—”

“—This is what _fuels_ your hatred for those who practice magic,” Arthur spat, cutting off his lie. “Rather than blame yourself for what _you_ did, you blame them.”

“You would believe someone’s lies over the word of your own father? I can only think you have been enchanted.”

“You have hunted her kind like animals!”

“Who? Which sorceress has poisoned your mind against me?” Uther looked at him with such confusion that it might have made Arthur doubt himself had the words not come straight from his mother’s spirit.

“Morgause!” He could see the moment the name registered and it made his conviction all the stronger. “How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?!”

“Those who practice magic will stop at _nothing_ to destroy us. I have only done what is necessary to protect this kingdom.”

“You speak of honor and nobility!” he yelled, his voice working itself up to a roar. “You’re _nothing_ but a **_hypocrite_** and a **_liar_** _!_ ”

Uther’s expression darkened. “I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!”

He reached for his gauntlet and tugged it off, throwing it at Uther’s feet. “Pick it up.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Pick. It. Up.”

“Think about what you’re doing. I will not fight you.”

He kept his voice carefully controlled as he chose his next words.“If you choose not to defend yourself, then I will strike you down where you stand.”

“You are my son,” Uther countered. “You will not strike an unarmed man.”

Arthur pulled out his sword. “I no longer think of myself as your son.”

“Then strike me down.”

He hesitated for only a moment before swinging. Uther brought his own sword up at the last second, realization dawning at his son’s seriousness. Arthur swung again and again was blocked. They fell into a familiar pattern, one he knew well. He pressed forward until he was able to knock the sword from Uther’s hand and swiftly pinned him to his chair.

It was then that the doors flew open at his back, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if Leon had decided to interfere after all. It wasn’t Leon who shouted at him though. It was Merlin.

“Arthur, don’t! I know you don’t want to do this.”

Arthur held his position, sword pressed to Uther’s throat. “My _mother_ is _dead_ because of him!”

“Killing your father won’t bring her back,” Merlin reasoned. “You’ve lost one parent, do you really want to lose another?”

“Listen to him, Arthur.”

The sound of Uther’s voice only made him double down, tightening his grip on his sword.

“Arthur, please. Put the sword down.”

How could Merlin take Uther’s side? _Merlin_ of all people. “You _heard_ what my mother said. After _everything_ he has done, you believe he deserves to live? He executes those who use magic and yet he has _used it himself_!” He looked into Uther’s eyes and felt no sympathy, only righteous fury. “You have caused so much _suffering_ and _pain_. I will put an end to that.”

His muscles tensed, ready to finish the job, and then he _couldn’t_. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t irresolution holding him back. It was magic.

“ _Please,_ ” Merlin begged. “You would carry the weight of this around forever, Arthur.”

He attempted to move his arm, but it was stock still. “Merlin,” he growled in warning.

“This will not make you feel better. _Listen_ to me.” Merlin moved toward him slowly as he spoke, until he could place a hand on his arm. “Do not let his trespasses rule you. The one who will hurt most when he is gone is you.”

Arthur felt the moment the magic was dropped. He was being given an option now. He wanted to kill Uther and be done with it.

He glanced at Merlin, who stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. Merlin, who had magic, who still wished to spare Uther’s life. Not for Uther, but for him. Merlin wanted to spare his enemy’s life for the sake of Arthur.

Finally, slowly, he pulled back, shifting his gaze to Uther again. Patricide would not be committed on this day, but if Uther attempted to execute another innocent, even Merlin could not stay Arthur’s hand. Without another word, he turned and swept out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little time skip here, making the whole Anestra plot seem a little pointless. She isn't gone from the story yet, folks. 0:-) 
> 
> This chap was a bit longer than usual, but I didn't cut anything since it mostly follows along the episode canon for this plot.
> 
> Uhh anyway, thank you little ducklings for following along! ❤


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot & Arthur have a chat. Merlin brandishes his personal lexicon of insults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god god god god god i'm sorry this is so late. i've mentioned home life before and the past few months have been really difficult! i'm visiting my dad now though so yay for productivity! i hope you enjoy this and thank you for reading ♥

It had been three weeks since Arthur had stopped talking to Uther. Somewhere along that line, the proud and steadfast man Arthur had always known turned into a mere ghost of his former self. Arthur has felt no small amount of guilt for that, mostly when he's alone in his bed and staring into the dark, sleep just beyond his grasp. He had felt guilt for the initial guilt as well, because Uther did not deserve it. He had to remind himself, occasionally, that his mother was dead because of Uther. So many were dead because of Uther. He would repeat it to himself as he quashed any burgeoning sympathy for the man.

And somewhere along the line, the responsibilities of king began to fall more and more often upon his shoulders. Arthur wasn't ready for it, felt somehow as if he might never be ready for it. Already he felt the weight of it, the men's worried and confused gazes, the question in Leon's eye that hadn't gone away since the day Arthur had taken up sword against his own father. Leon was the only knight to have heard any of what had transpired, but he hadn't asked after it, for which Arthur was grateful. Or he would have been grateful if he wasn't always asking with his eyes.

He entered his chambers to find Morgana, Merlin, and Anestra huddled closely together in what appeared to be a riveting, but hushed, conversation. Merlin had convinced him to stay any decisions on what to do with Anestra until the weather was less fierce, and he had acted begrudging as he agreed, but he was mostly relieved at one less thing to deal with for the moment.

He felt no relief as he watched the three now, not after the day he'd had, not after being stuck in bloody court for hours upon hours with his servant nowhere in sight.

"This is not a halfway house for wayward sorcerers," he said, perhaps more sharply than was his intent.

The three looked up in unison, as if just noticing him, which only further agitated.

"There's no need to be waspish, Arthur," Morgana said, standing gracefully and nodding for the runaway princess to follow. Anestra apologized on her way out and he pinched the bridge of his nose as the door shut.

"Would you care to explain where you've been all day?"

"In the snow, mostly," Merlin answered. "Did you need me?"

"You're my _personal manservant_ , Merlin. What do you think?"

Merlin gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry. Rough day?"

He set another two papers on his desk amidst the ever growing stack. Just the look of them was giving him a headache. Or else making his already present headache worse. "I swear, I'll have to begin wearing disguises around my own castle just to have a moment's time to myself. Everyone wants me to solve their problems and half of them think I'm incapable of doing so." Arthur himself thought he might be incapable of doing so, which certainly didn't help matters.

"Have you gone to him at all?" Merlin asked, no need for further explanation of _him_.

"No."

"Arthur, it can't go on like this forever. Something has to give. You can't rule from a place of half power."

"You think I don't know that?" he snapped. "But what choice do I have? Refuse to do anything at all? Depose my father and create civil unrest?"

"Your people love you, and it is becoming more and more clear to them that their king is no longer seeing to their qualms. Camelot only grows weaker in this state. I just think that if y—"

"It is not your _place_ to _think_ , Merlin! If I want your opinion then I will _ask_ for it."

Merlin recoiled, just for a blink, before a look came over him that said he was preparing to argue.

"You are dismissed for the night." He turned away and the room was silent for several beats before Merlin saw himself out. Immediately, he knew he had acted unfairly, but he simply sighed and sat at his desk, resting his head on his arms.

He must have begun to doze, because a rap at door startled him enough that he knocked over a bottle of ink, which immediately spread across the dark wood to make friends with the parchment. He righted the bottle and cast his gaze around the room for something to clean the mess. A discarded shirt peaked out from under his bed and he retrieved it quickly, sopping up the ink as best he could before straightening and finger-combing his hair into place.

"Enter."

To his surprise, it was Lancelot that walked in, pausing a few steps in to ask if he'd come at a bad time.

"That depends on what you came for."

Lancelot shifted his weight in an unusual indication of discomfort, then glanced to the chairs by the fire. "Could we..?"

"Of course."

Even after they've sat, Lancelot took his time before speaking. "I would like to preface this by saying that I had not been intending to...infringe on anyone's privacy. It happened the night we drank here."

Arthur tensed, mind immediately going to him and Merlin, because what else happened that night that would warrant a preface like that?

"I saw something that I was not meant to, and I hadn't intended to bring it up, but I've not been able to let it go." He paused, mouth turning down. "Are you sure this isn't a bad time?"

"Well, it's hardly as if my night could get much worse," Arthur answered with a stiff wave of a hand. Read: _continue_.

Lancelot grimaced. "I shouldn't have bothered you with it."

"The incident is clearly troubling you, Lancelot."

"Am I reading too much into it, do you think? Or am I correct in assuming there are...deeper feelings involved?"

"The assumption is sound. But does that change anything? I need to know if I can still trust that you'll have my back." Relations between two men weren't outlawed in Camelot, but they were surely not looked upon by most with warm regard. Arthur had always worked under the assumption that Lancelot was an honourable, just, and kind man, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Have your— Why wouldn't I?"

"My faith in those close to me has been misplaced before."

Lancelot looked lost. "You think I would bear you ill will over your half sister?"

" _Morgana_?"

There was a moment where they both stared at each other, the realization dawning that the incidents they were referencing were completely different.

"I came to you for advice," Lancelot clarified. "Morgana has cared for Gwen much longer than I, and she can provide her with much more. And I have seen the way Guinevere lights up when Morgana enters the room. Surely it is possible to love more than one person at a time."

"Are you asking me if you should leave Guinevere?" Arthur asked, to make sure he wasn't misreading the conversation again.

"Is it not the honourable thing to do?"

"She would feel betrayed, hurt, and angry, regardless. Regardless of honour or your belief in giving her a better life. I care for Morgana more than any other woman I have known, and I want her to find happiness, but not at the expense of others."

Lancelot sighed, looking in part both sad and relieved, and then perked with interest. "If you weren't talking about Morgana and Gwen before, what _were_ you talking about?"

"Nothing of importance," Arthur answered, sitting straighter in his chair.

Lancelot continued to look at him, as if piecing things together, and he didn't want to stare into the man's eyes when the recognition dawned. He stood swiftly.

"If that was all, I have papers that I must attend to."

Graciously, Lancelot dropped the topic and stood as well. "Of course, Sire." He walked to the door and paused in the threshold, barely concealed amusement on his face. "Perhaps you should look in the mirror."

Arthur sought out his mirror and let out a deep sigh. There was a smudge of black across his forehead as well as some in his ruffled hair. He would expect _Merlin_ not to tell him something like that, but he expected better of Lancelot. Foolish expectation, apparently.

+

When Merlin woke him the next day, it was with an unusual reserve. He had, of course, no plans to mention it, not at first, but it nagged at him as the day wore on. The final straw came when he took up practice with the knights—something he hadn't often been able to do since winter began—and his manservant stayed uncharacteristically silent for the affair. No jests about him losing his touch or complaints about the snow melt seeping into his boots. Even the knights noticed the change and a few attempted to cheer him up. Only Leon managed to make him smile, but it was more dimmed than usual.

After they finished sparring, Leon patted him on the shoulder, his expression looking something to Arthur like, "Just apologize already, will you?" Arthur wasn't sure weather to be glad the knights were so protective of Merlin or offended that they sometimes seemed _more_ protective of Merlin than their own prince.

He took his time in the armoury until it grew empty, then turned to Merlin with determination. "Okay, lay it on me."

Merlin glanced around, searching for something to literally lay on him. "Sire?"

He heaved a sigh. "You've been sullen all day, which I can only assume is due to me sending you from my quarters yesterday."

Merlin's face tightened and Arthur felt the guilt from the previous night resurfacing. He softened his voice before he spoke again.

"I was, perhaps, hasty in my decision. I apologize for making you leave."

There was no immediate forgiveness. Merlin continued to watch him for a long moment, clearly at odds with himself for what to say. He finally settled on, "It wasn't the sending me away, Arthur. It wasn't _just_ that."

Arthur's eyebrows lifted and he tried to remember what else he'd done. Chancing seeming like a buffoon, he decided to just ask. "Then what?"

"You said it wasn't my place to think, that you would ask for my opinion if you wanted it. Which I know, all right? I've always known that I overstep boundaries and you let me, but I thought— Well, I thought that's just what we did. I thought you considered me more than just a servant, after everything."

It was wrong. It was all wrong, because Merlin had never been _just a servant_ , but his temper and pride undermined that sentiment again and again.

"I'm sorry," he said, but the words felt inadequate. "Of course you're more than a servant, Merlin. I value your opinions, you must know that. Sometimes I'm just..." He struggled to find the right thing to say.

"A dollophead?" Merlin suggested.

"That's not the word I would have used."

"Oh, right. You must've meant a giant fopdoodle."

"Stop making up words, Merlin."

"A triptaker."

"Merlin."

"A lubberwort."

" _Merlin_!"

Merlin closed his mouth, eyes wide and falsely innocent. Three hells if Arthur hadn't found the most maddening person to fall in love with.

He sighed and smacked Merlin's arm without any actual force. "All right, I'm all of those things. Let's go before someone sees me and tries to usher me off to court again."

Merlin smiled, a real smile this time. "Nobody'll ever believe you just admitted to that."

"All according to plan," he said airily, turning away from Merlin's crinkled eyes before he proved the point by doing something horribly stupid like kissing his servant without alcohol to blame.

"I'll need you to write it down and add your family seal," Merlin continued, falling easily into step beside him.

He snorted. "Not a chance, Merlin."

"It's the single condition for gaining my forgiveness."

The statement startled a laugh out of him. "I think I can live without that." That was a lie and, judging by the look thrown his way, Merlin knew it too.

They stopped in on Gaius, who had apparently been working on a new draught to help Morgana sleep more soundly without interfering too badly with her visions.

"Ah, yes, here it is." Gaius grabbed the vial from a table full of other unmarked vials that made Arthur wonder how he kept track of what was what. "Two drops before bed. Tell her to come to me if there are any unpleasant side effects."

Merlin took the vial and examined it briefly. "Got it."

Gaius turned to Arthur then, expression gentle. "How have you been, dear boy?"

"Well," he said tersely. "Thank you."

For as much blame laid at Uther's feet, Gaius had known as well, had known about his birth and said nothing, and Arthur wasn't quite ready to forgive him for that yet. Understanding passed over Gaius' face and he nodded.

Arthur let Merlin say goodbye before they left, grateful when Merlin returned them to their normal banter as they headed to Morgana's chambers.

The door was already open when they got there and Morgana flashed a smile as they entered.

"For last night—"

"Never mind that," she interrupted. "We all know you can be an ass sometimes."

He deserved that, but he still made a face at it.

"Gaius has a new draught for you," Merlin said, digging the vial out of his pocket. "Two drops before sleep. Stop use immediately if you begin to sprout a beard."

She stared at the proffered draught with alarm until Merlin broke and grinned at her. "Just kidding. But really, if it doesn't sit well with you, tell Gaius."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the vial, unable to completely suppress her smile. "Thank you, Merlin."

"'Course."

"Have you told Arthur about...?"

"Not yet." Merlin glanced back at the open door and lowered his voice. "Didn't really get the chance to before he _kicked me out of his chambers_."

Morgana turned to him with disbelief and he could feel the shame coloring his cheeks. " _Arthur_!"

"What haven't you told me?" he asked, redirecting the conversation.

Merlin shut the door and then rejoined them near the window. "I'm going to tell Gwaine and Percy. About me. My magic, I mean."

It made sense. They were Merlin's friends, his too, and they were trustworthy. Still, a secret was never better kept by telling _more_ people. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"It's _Gwaine and Percy_." Merlin said it like that was all the rebuttal needed, and maybe it was. "I've got something planned for it. Everyone's invited."

"Invited? Are you throwing a bloody ball to announce it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Merlin chastised. "I don't have the coin for an affair like that."

"Oh, _that's_ the problem."

"Clearly. No, it's something much better than a ball, which we'll need to convene under the castle for."

Under the castle. Where Kilgharrah had been chained. He couldn't possibly—"Are you bringing that dragon _back to the castle_?"

"No! He's banished, remember? And he'd never want to go back there anyway. I'm bringing _Aithusa_ to the castle."

"Merlin, don't you think there's better ways of telling someone you have magic than calling a _dragon_ into Camelot?"

"It's just for a visit, Arthur," Morgana said peevishly. "Just because you already got to see them, doesn't mean the rest of us don't want to."

He looked between the two and felt his resolve turning to dust. Merlin and Morgana were his biggest weaknesses and they knew it. "Fine then, but be _careful_. Make sure he's not seen. The last thing we need right now is public panic."

Merlin and Morgana shared a smile and Arthur had the feeling that they would've done it anyway, even without his blessing.

"When are you planning to do this then?"

"That would ruin the surprise," Merlin said.

"Why do _I_ have to be surprised? I already _know_ about them."

Morgana hushed him as one might hush a small babe and he glared at her. "Let us worry about the how and when. You'll know when you know."

"Is this what you were discussing with Lady Anestra?"

"Yes," Merlin answered, "which you might have known sooner if you hadn't come in being a pillock."

"You're pushing it with the insults," he warned, but Merlin just turned up his nose.

"I get free reign of insults for the rest of the day, since you clearly won't give me the signed statement I asked for."

"I don't suppose giving you an order as your prince to stop would work?"

Merlin snorted softly. "Now, when has that ever?"

Arthur conceded the point. When had it ever, indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I paralleled some situations from canon here (like Uther's mental breakdown and Lance (almost) leaving Gwen, which was fun. I'd really like your guys' opinion regarding this: how do you feel about Lance/Gwen/Morgana ot3?
> 
> Also I've made a blog _just_ for fic/writing! It's the same handle as my ao3, so [vipertooths](vipertooths.tumbl.com/). Follow it for occasional updates about how a fic is going, what I'm working on, or early previews. I will tag all fandoms and pairings for your blacklisting needs. :)


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